30 Hugs: Heiji and Kazuha
by Candyland
Summary: Sometimes, we all just need a hug. Thirty hugs for Heiji and Kazuha. [The Safest Place I Know: She hit rock bottom and tried to burn her bridges. He followed her with a fire hose.]
1. Piecing Things Together

**Title:** Piecing Things Together  
**Fandom:** Detective Conan  
**Theme: **#18—the wrong words  
**Pairing:** Hattori Heiji/Toyama Kazuha  
**Rating:** PG  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Detective Conan or any related characters. They belong to Gosho Aoyama. I simply throw fruit at them, take pictures, and call it modern art. Critics love me.  
**Summary:** If I didn't know better, Heiji, I'd say you were jealous!

* * *

After years of frustration with the lack of things going where she wanted them to, Toyama Kazuha had decided that maybe it was time to consider other options. It was because of this decision—which was more difficult to make than it probably should have been—that she found herself out on a date. 

With a guy.

A guy who was _not_ Heiji.

Her father had promptly had a proper heart attack when she told him about it. In the true fashion of a teenager, she ignored him and went about her business. When the Big Night came, she swore to herself that she was going to have a good time.

So when Heiji appeared at the restaurant—_with his katana in his hand_—declaring that he was there to rescue her…well, to say that Kazuha was shocked would win the award for Understatement of the Century. They hadn't even ordered yet…how had he known where she was, anyway?

"Why are you trying to rescue me?" she demanded. Across the table, her date looked confused.

"…you talk to much," he said shortly. "Come on."

"Heiji, I'm here on a date," she gestured to the other young man at the table."

Heiji's eyes came to rest on the appointed guy, and narrowed. His hand tightened around the hilt of his katana as a shark-like grin slid across his face. "'Zat so?"

Kazuha nearly came out of her chair; at the same time, she was trying to ignore the fact that people were staring. "What the hell are you—put that away? Yes, ahou, that _is_ so! What's it to you?"

"You don't listen," he said, exasperation coloring his tone. "I'm here to rescue you."

"The only person I need rescuing from is you," she growled. "Kira-kun is a perfectly nice guy, he's not-clueless—thank God—and…he's cute."

The Giant Heiji Demon-Head of DOOM chose then to make an appearance. "HE'S A GUY!"

"Yes, he is a guy. Brilliant deduction," she deadpanned. "One of your best, I'd say."

"…ahou."

"Are you done yet?" she huffed.

"I don't care who you date," Heiji insisted, glowering. "I already know he's crazy if he wants to date _you_! I just have to make sure he's not a murderer or something!"

"You—you—you ahou!" Kazuha was officially furious. She grabbed her date's hand from where it was resting on the tablecloth and used it to drag him from the restaurant. They hadn't ordered yet, so there was no issue with running out on the bill.

Heiji stared for a minute, totally unsure of what to do. "Okay," he murmured to himself, "is this one of those weird female things where she wants me to come after her, or will she kill me if I do?"

"You fool."

The teenager jumped at the sound and immediately sought the source of the voice—an old man, sitting at a nearby table, watching him. "Excuse me, sir?"

"No wonder you're single," the old man went on. "It's obvious!"

"…it is?"

"Go after her, you fool!" the man ordered, making a threatening gesture with his cane.

"…oh." Heiji didn't need to be told twice, and was out the door.

The old man—along with most of the restaurant—watched him leave with knowing smiles and shakes of the head. A collective wish followed him. _Good luck, kid. I think you're going to need it._

_**-o-**_

"Can you BELIEVE HIM? That moron!" Kazuha ranted, storming across the street with her date skittering behind her. "The nerve—the absolute NERVE! Don't you think so?"

"Uhh…sure?"

"Comes in there, swinging that stupid katana of his like a complete moron…" she grumbled.

"Uh, about that—should I be concerned about my personal safety?"

"Don't worry, I'm an aikido champ," she replied heatedly. "I can beat him any day of the week."

"Oh. That's good," he said, still looking extremely nervous about the whole thing. "But he's also got that demon-head thing he does…that's kind of freaky."

"Oh good Lord," she sighed. "You really don't have to be afraid of Heiji—"

As if on cue, the Osakan detective appeared. "Hold up!"

"Heiji, what are you doing here?" Kazuha openly gaped.

"Coming after you, what does it look like?" he snapped. It probably wasn't a good idea to mention the old man. "Sooooo…here we are," he grinned evilly, shouldering his katana.

"Heiji, what's gotten into you?" Kazuha demanded. "I'm out on a date with this cute…um, nice…smart guy, and there's nothing you can do about it! So go away!" She folded her arms and glared, daring him to make a move.

"Could you excuse us for a sec?" Heiji asked the Date after a few beats, using one of those voices that makes an order out of a request. "Please?" He even punctuated it with a well-aimed Evil Eye.

The message was received. Perhaps the guy was smarter than he looked. "S-sure…" he replied to Heiji before turning to Kazuha. "We'll just meet back at the restaurant, okay?" And he was gone.

"Heiji, what do you want?" Kazuha asked after her date had obligingly absented himself.

"What's this all about?" he glowered in response. The katana had mysteriously vanished from sight, leaving her once again to vaguely wonder exactly where he kept it in situations like this.

"What's all what about?"

"You. Him. Here. Together," Heiji gestured wildly with his hands, as though the movement would couple with the monosyllabic vocal emissions to make a clear picture. "That!"

Kazuha quirked a brow. "Cave man speak much?" she sighed. "Honestly. We're out on a date. Or at least that's what we were trying to do before we were rather rudely interrupted by a certain someone who shall be named—you. Now what's the problem with that?"

"There's a big problem with that!" Heiji snapped.

"What? What? What is the problem with that?" she huffed.

Heiji threw his hands in the air in aggravation. "I don't know what the problem is, and that's the problem!" he blurted out, not wasting a single precious second on something as silly as thinking before opening his mouth and speaking.

The result was one of the most awkward silences either of them had ever experienced. And it just hung in the air between them, taunting their inability to adequately communicate.

Finally, Kazuha gathered the barest shred of coherency and said, "What? I…what?"

Heiji sighed. "My thoughts exactly."

"Okay, let's start at the beginning. Logically," Kazuha said, massaging the bridge of her nose between her thumb and index finger; she was getting one hell of a headache. "Why are you mad?"

"I don't know," Heiji replied honestly, one hand threaded nervously through his dark hair. "But whatever the hell it is, it's been bugging me since that stupid case with the magician."

She blinked, surprised. "The magician? Are you serious?"

"Yeah…" he admitted, then complained, "Something about you—I just keep getting pissed off, and then I can't figure out why I'm so pissed off, so it just pisses me off even more!"

Kazuha sighed for the umpteenth time. "I think you need anger management classes."

For the first time since the beginning of the confrontation, Heiji seemed to wilt. "Should I leave?"

She shook her head quickly. "No, no, it's all right. I'm your friend, I'll help you figure this out." She murmured something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like 'so dense' before continuing, "Now, you get upset when I'm around other guys?"

"…sometimes," he admitted, somewhat sheepishly.

She nodded encouragingly. "Okay. Now, based on your general knowledge of the world, pop culture, etc. and so forth, what do you think that usually means?"

Heiji frowned. "I think we've already established that I apparently have anger issues."

Kazuha stared at him for a minute before walking past him to a nearby bench and sinking down to a seat there. She leaned forward to put her face in her hands, elbows resting on her knees, and groaned. "Why me? Why me? It could have been anyone else, but it has to be me…"

There was a rustle and a slight creak as his weight joined hers on the worn wooden bench. "Stop being so dramatic. I don't have a clue, okay? I'm admitting it, so don't you dare rub it in my face—I. Don't. Have. A. Clue."

In spite of herself, Kazuha had to crack a small smile at his honesty. "I know you don't. Let's try a different angle. Let's say you were out on a date with a girl, and I showed up like you did, all angry and threatening to beat your date up with aikido. What would you think?"

He raised a sardonic eyebrow. "You know, whatever I say is going to be the wrong thing. But let's see…at first, I'd probably think you'd just gone into Psychotic Older Sister Mode."

Kazuha resisted the urge to swat him over the head, figuring that it would get her nowhere. Instead she sighed and said, "Okay, all right, at first. But then what would you think?" She found herself smiling slightly at his wary look. "Whatever you say, I won't get mad. I promise, I won't get angry."

He thought for a moment. "Well, I'd almost think that you might be…"

Unconsciously, she leaned forward. "Yes? I might be?"

"I'd think you might be…" he tapped his chin thoughtfully, "…drunk?"

Silence fell. The earth-shattering variety.

Again, it was Kazuha who broke it—furiously. "I—I—DRUNK?" she gaped, shaking her head in disbelief. "You'd think I was drunk? Are YOU drunk right now?" Without thinking about it at all, she hauled off and smacked him. "You ahou! I—I—_oooooooh!"_ Rage took over her voice then, reducing her speech to incoherent stammering. Crossing her arms angrily, she turned, giving him an excellent view of her back, still shaking with fury.

Heiji looked at her back for a moment, rubbing his now-aching cheek, before he turned his head to look away from her as well. "See? I told you so," he murmured in an uncharacteristically quiet voice. "I say the wrong thing, you get pissed off, I feel bad, and I can't apologize to save my life…" He trailed off.

There was a moment before Kazuha sighed. "You don't always say the wrong thing," she said softly. "That—what you just said…that was really nice. And I did promise that I wouldn't get mad, so I really should be the one apologizing right now. I'm sorry. But, Heiji…drunk? Good grief." She rolled her eyes and turned back to him. "Okay, let's say I wasn't drunk—which I promise you, I wouldn't be. Then what would you think?"

For a moment, she really thought he was going to get it. But instead, he stood up suddenly enough to make her jump. "I should probably leave," he said, his tone oddly strained. "Your date's waiting."

_Damn, damn, damn! _Kazuha jumped to her feet as he started walking away. "Fine!" she called after him. "If you want to leave, go right ahead! But ya know, if I was watching this scene, I would say you had a huge crush on me!" She put her hands on her hips, braced herself, and waited expectantly for the reaction that she knew was to come.

Heiji did not disappoint. He whipped around fast enough to create a sonic boom, eyes the size of hubcaps, jaw swinging all the way down by his knees. "W-W-W-WHAT?" he yelped. "What the hell would give you that crazy idea?"

Kazuha realized quickly that she had just gained the upper hand, and she wasn't about to sacrifice that. If this was what it took to get the point across, then she was going to dig her heels in and do it. Trying to ignore the fact that her own heart was going like a jackhammer, she started ticking points off on her fingers. "You show up here when I'm on a date, you bring your katana, you try to intimidate the guy away from me—and did a damn fine job, might I add, I think you've traumatized him. And then you tell him to leave because you want to talk to me alone. You're jealous, you're overprotective, and you're in denial. Come on, meitantei—get a clue!"

"B-but…but I…" Heiji stammered, looking…well, _terrified_ was probably the best description for the expression on his face. There was a muffled _thump_ as he dropped back down to his seat on the bench, staring straight ahead—and definitely _not_ looking at her. "But…"

"But nothing, Heiji!" Kazuha snapped, having watched impassively as he sat back down; she felt strangely gratified to know that she'd stopped him from running away again. "Just now, you were so upset with yourself because you really thought you'd made me mad—which you had, but that's not the point. You care about my feelings far more than you should for someone who's 'just a friend.' And," it felt like she was twisting the knife, but she did it anyway, "I know for sure that you don't like the fact that I'm wearing a dress for this date." She folded her arms across her chest and waited patiently for a response.

It took a second before she got one. "…how do you know that?" His patented defense, the wall of utter cluelessness that he usually stayed behind, was crumbling with record speed. And Hattori Heiji did not like being defenseless like that. So he said the first coherent thing that came to mind.

"How do I know what?" Kazuha asked. "The whole analysis? That was based mostly on intuition, maybe a little logic. But I just know you that well, Heiji."

"I meant the dress…" he mumbled, still not daring to look her way. He also muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "get any shorter" under his breath.

"I can tell about the dress," she replied evenly, "because of hindsight. The first time I wore it, you said it was decent. This was, however, when I was just wearing it for you." Despite the crushing weight of the mounting tension, she was chuckling to herself, proud of her own deductions.

Heiji snorted. "Well, aren't we Miss Detective?"

Kazuha preened. "I'm pretty good, aren't I?"

He didn't reply. He just sat there, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees, fingers loosely linked together, eyes focused on some unseen point; she had an excellent view of the back of his head. And he was being very quiet.

Kazuha sat down beside him on the bench, her hands folded primly in her lap. "I mean, I'm right, aren't I? You're not saying anything…" There was a pause, and the tension was just too much. "You know what? Forget it." She reached out and gave him a tiny push on the shoulder to try and get him to respond, somehow. "Just forget it. I'm sorry, I'm just embarrassing you, and…I'm being stupid, just like always. It's just nonsense. Forget it."

"How do you feel?"

"What?" Kazuha froze in the act of pulling her hand back from his shoulder.

"How do you feel?" Heiji repeated in a low, even tone.

Kazuha had been expecting several potential reactions. This was not one of them, though, and it had caught her completely off guard. "I…uh, what? Oh…I, umm…" She trailed off.

Heiji finally turned to look at her, one sardonic eyebrow raised. "Caveman speak much?" he asked teasingly in an echo of her earlier jibe at his lack of coherency.

She tried to scowl, but failed miserably. "I just…wasn't expecting that question, that's all."

"Turnabout is fair play," he quoted, still giving her that look.

Kazuha felt the first shiver of panic thread its way through her. She had just lost the upper-hand, resulting in a potentially-precarious position. Thinking quickly for a way to salvage the situation, Kazuha shot back with, "Well, why don't you figure it out? I did an analysis, I figured things out on my own. Why don't you, great detective? Dazzle me with your deductions!" As she spoke, her hands clenched into white-knuckled fists in her lap.

He mulled this over before he actually _chuckled_. "You know, Kazuha," he said, resting one elbow on his knee, and bringing his hand up to rest his chin in it, "you're almost saying more by trying to avoid the question then you could by just answering it."

"What do you mean by that?" she asked.

She recognized that expression now. Heiji had just slipped into full-blown Detective Mode. It was deduction time. "Just what I said," he replied calmly. "You're avoiding the question. It really doesn't take a detective to see that you don't want to answer. So, if I had to take a guess, I'd say that you either have something to hide, or you're trying to avoid hurting either me or yourself, by saying the wrong thing. I dare you to tell me I'm wrong." That last was said bluntly, but not unkindly.

The evening seemed rife with awkward pauses that spoke volumes on their own; another such moment fell at his challenge. And again, it fell to Kazuha to break that silence. "You know, Heiji, you really are insightful sometimes. You're so observant when it comes to cases, but when it comes to other things…well, you just don't _see_ things." It wasn't harsh, but honest. "But you're pretty much dead-on."

"Thank you," he said. "So are you going to answer the question or not?"

"I still say it's not fair," she retorted. "I asked first, and you didn't answer."

His smirk vanished into that uncharacteristic uncertainty. "Maybe it's because I don't have an answer yet. Or I'm not sure what my answer is. Did you ever think of that?"

Kazuha couldn't stop her jaw from dropping, and she gaped openly at him. "You're not…" she stopped and turned to face forward once more. "You're not sure. I see…well…" She laughed suddenly, and it was easily the saddest noise Heiji had ever heard. "Well, I guess I should go then. It's been…wow, it's already been forty-five minutes. I don't even know if he's still there…"

"…have we really been here that long?" Heiji asked.

"Yes. And nothing's been…I should go," she said.

"Do you like him?" he prodded.

"Well, yeah. I mean, he's a friend," she corrected herself hastily. "But he asked me. I figured I should at least give it a shot. Nothing to lose by trying, right? He was so excited when I said yes."

"What's his name again, anyway?" Heiji continued. There was no malice—only curiosity.

"Kira-kun."

"So are you having a good time on your…date?" he asked, voice suddenly strained.

"Well, yes. He's nice, and he makes me laugh, but…you know," she shrugged.

"What?"

"Oh, come on. You know," she waved a hand, as though to illustrate whatever point she was trying to make. "We're good friends, but in terms of dating, there's no spark. No chemistry."

"So this won't be a repeat performance?" Heiji asked.

"Probably not," she shrugged. "I guess that's just the way things are."

"I guess…" he nodded.

Enter yet another long, awkward pause. There were far too many of those tonight.

This time, they both broke it.

"Soooo…" Kazuha started.

"Well…" Heiji said at the exact same time. They looked at each other—since when had things been this awkward? But that was easy. It had been awkward since Heiji had appeared in the restaurant to interrupt her date, bearing down on them with his katana. It had been awkward since Kazuha had asked the Pointed Question and outlined her own deductions, freezing even the Great Detective in his tracks.

It was now, when neither could admit to anything, but they were in too deep for blatant denials.

"It's getting late, huh?" she said quietly, crossing her legs at the ankle and letting them swing. Straight out in front of her, the bend the knees so her feet disappeared beneath the bench. Forward, back. Forward, back.

"Yeah. Getting colder, too," he added, looking up at the sky; one hand absently rubbed at the back of his neck. He turned to Kazuha, mouth open as though he was going to say something else, but stopped when he actually looked at her, paused, and then said, "You're gonna freeze."

It was only when he said something that she realized she was chilly, and a shiver threaded down her spine. "Crap, you're right," she muttered, rubbing her bare arms with her hands in an attempt to create friction and warm herself up. "I should have brought a sweater."

Heiji slipped his jacket off and passed it to her. "Here, put this on," he instructed.

"But—"

"I'm wearing a sweatshirt. I have sleeves. I'll be fine."

In the dim light, he could have sworn he saw her blush as she obeyed. She slipped her arms into the jacket's sleeves, already warm from Heiji's own body-heat, and murmured a quiet, "Thank you."

"I have a question," Heiji said suddenly, after watching her arrange his jacket around her. The garment, already oversized on him, was far too large for her; the sleeves came well past her fingertips. It was actually kind of adorable. "About something you said earlier."

Kazuha looked confused. "What did I say earlier?"

Heiji swallowed hard. "It's about that dress, actually," he said softly. "When you mentioned it before, you said…you said that the first time you wore it, you were wearing it…for me?"

For the second time since this conversation, Kazuha realized that her footing had been snapped right out from under her. It was a decidedly unpleasant feeling, and she made every attempt at a quick recovery. "So what if I did?" she said. It sounded idiotic, even to her own ears.

He shrugged. "Just wondering."

"Why were you wondering?" she persisted after a moment.

"Just wondering if there was a reason or anything. That's all."

"I know," she went on. "But I wanted to know if there was a reason that it matters to you."

Again, Heiji looked like he was going to say something, like there were words on the very tip of his tongue, just trying to spill over and be heard. But at the last possible second, he changed his mind again, and shrugged, seemingly defeated. "Just curious."

This was going nowhere. Kazuha swallowed hard, and decided that she really had nothing to lose at this point…and hadn't she used that same phrase to describe her acceptance of Kira-kun's proposal of a date? Perhaps she had been wrong about that. Taking a deep breath, she said, "Fine. I did wear it for you. We were going to that new restaurant, remember? I wanted to look nice."

There. She'd admitted it. The ball was in his court now.

He glanced away. "You did look nice," he mumbled, barely audible.

Kazuha felt herself blush. "Thank you." Deciding to take a calculated risk, she grinned and teasingly added, "But you really don't want me wearing it today, huh?"

"Well, look who you're wearing it for!" he retorted with a raised eyebrow, recognizing her attempt at a jibe for what it was. "And it's cold, ahou. You're gonna freeze. And while we're on the subject, how exactly does that thing stay up without straps?"

Kazuha chuckled. "Well, wouldn't you like to know?" She mock-sighed. "If you must know, there's actually some special wiring in the back. And that's all you need to know."

"Wiring?" Heiji looked appalled. "How the hell can that possibly be comfortable?"

"Dressmakers are good at what they do," she replied. "And the rest that keeps it up, I am NOT going to talk about. You'll have to figure that out on your own, Hattori."

Heiji's smile grew. "Uh-oh, called me Hattori. Does that mean I'm in trouble?"

"Yes, you are," she retorted. "And don't think you're prying anything else out of me."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he shook his head. "I think the only thing I have to worry about now is if you come after me with aikido. But if you tried it in that outfit…" He snickered. "Might be interesting."

She gave him a half-hearted smack on the arm. "Shut up! If you would just behave yourself, I wouldn't have to use you for a punching bag! God, you drive me nuts!"

"Of course I drive you nuts," Heiji said cheerily; it was, by far, the happiest he'd looked all night. "What are friends for?"

Kazuha's smile was almost a little too bright as she nodded and leaned back against the bench, facing straight forward once again. "Yup, friends."

"Friends…yup…" Heiji echoed.

As clichéd as it sounds, a cricket actually chirped nearby.

That was enough to make Kazuha crack a smile. She jabbed in the side with her elbow. "Uh-huh. So the next time you get too curious about what I'm wearing, you're gonna get it, ahou. Got it?"

He quirked a brow. "If you're gonna wear something like that, at least bring a jacket, ahou. What were you thinking? It's cold out!" As if to accent his point, he chose that moment to shiver.

"Prior to a certain crazy someone showing up and interrupting things," she said haughtily, though she was inwardly concerned that he seemed so chilled, "I probably wouldn't have needed a jacket. I probably would've been home by now, for that matter. Here," she slipped his jacket off, gasping slightly as the cold night air reintroduced itself to her bare skin, and handed it to him, "take your jacket. You obviously need it, and it's my own fault that I'm cold."

"No, you need it more than I do," Heiji replied, pushing it back at her. "At least I have sleeves."

"Look, it really is my fault," she insisted, again thrusting the coat at him. "It's yours, and you're cold. Besides, weren't you sick a week ago? Are you trying to get sick again, ahou?"

"That was a week ago, this is now," he growled, shoving it towards her once again. "Now put it on, dammit! You're going to get pneumonia, and then you'll whine!" A stare-down began, the jacket positioned between them.

For a fleeting moment, Kazuha thought she had won when Heiji pulled the garment from her hand. But that thought was immediately squashed when he leaned in a little closer and wrapped it around her bare shoulders once again, never breaking eye contact. "Now leave it," he said shortly.

Kazuha held his gaze for another moment before she said, "Fine." But she wasn't going to be beaten quite that easily; she slid a little closer and raised an arm to drape one side of the oversized jacket around his shoulders. "There, now neither of us has to freeze."

Another glaring contest ensued before Heiji caved. "All right, fine. Except my arm's stuck." He tried to wiggle his arm around a bit, but it was trapped rather neatly between them. Kazuha sighed and ignore the fact that his elbow was banging into her ribs…until his arm suddenly snaked its way around her; instinctively, she did the same. "Okay, there. Now we're good."

"Then, if I…" she murmured thoughtfully, tilting sideways slightly and letting her head rest on his shoulder. "Much better. _Now_ we're good, tall guy."

"Yeah…good," he said, not moving, only betraying his nervousness by swallowing hard.

It was so comfortable like this, though, sitting close with their arms around each other. Heiji's hand seemed so large on her waist—in spite of his constant teasing to the contrary, she was so slender, in stark contrast to her considerable strength.

"Do you think your date's still waiting," Heiji asked softly, "or should I just take you home?"

Kazuha shook her head wryly. "Kira-kun may be dense," she said, "but he's not an idiot. And it's been over an hour, I'm sure he's gone. S'okay, I'll just head home." She started to rise from the bench.

Unfortunately for Heiji, with their arms entwined in such a fashion, he was inadvertently dragged along for the ride. Righting himself quickly, he cleared his throat. "It's getting late," he commented. "I might as well just walk you home. At least then I know you won't freeze."

Kazuha made a noise that sounded like irritation. "If you weren't so warm, I'd probably kick you."

They walked along in relative silence for a few minutes after that, arms around each other, squeezed side-by-side into one oversized jacket. It was warmer that way.

"By the way, Kazuha…" Heiji said suddenly.

"What?" she asked, blushing slightly.

His next words were in a voice so low she could barely hear him. "…I _was_ jealous."

Kazuha stopped dead in her tracks.

And again, with things being as they were, Heiji was dragged to the sudden stop with her. He let out a little yelp at the unexpected halt. "Ow, that was my arm…"

She didn't hear that. She just turned her head to stare at him. "You were…jealous?"

"…yeah…" he murmured, turning his own head to look away. He seemed determined to look at anything that _wasn't_ Kazuha at that point. The hand still resting on her waist tightened a little bit, though not enough to hurt her.

Reaching up with her free hand, she tugged on his shoulder. "Why?"

He muttered something unintelligible and tried to keep walking, still staring off into space. In the glow of a nearby streetlight, a faint pink color was becoming more and more pronounced on his face.

Kazuha instinctively tightened her grip, both on his shoulder and waist. "Heiji, tell me. Why?" _Come on, Heiji, please. If there's something there, just tell me. I don't care if you still have misgivings, if you're not ready. Please, we're so close. Tell me how you feel so I don't have to wonder anymore…_

He opened his mouth…and what came out were more mutters, nothing she could actually hear.

Releasing her hold on him, she slipped out of his grasp, out of the jacket, and turned to face him. She tried desperately to ignore the fact that her skin started tingling the instant Heiji's warmth was gone, though she shivered violently as the cold air reacquainted itself with her bare arms and shoulders. But now she could look right at him, and him at her. "Heiji—tell me."

The world seemed to vanish. Even the passing cars didn't make any sound audible to their ears. Kazuha waited patiently, nervously as numerous expressions flitted over his features.

He reached out, grabbed her arms, and pulled her forward into him, both his hands moving across her back. Instinctively, she raised her chin to slide over his shoulder and rest there.

"Heiji—" she said, startled, "w-what are you—" _Is he…?_

"…mine."

It was all he said. One tentative, hushed word, breathed right into her ear.

Surprised at the actual admission, Kazuha jerked back just enough to look at him, though not enough to move away from the warmth of his possessive hold. "Wha—?"

He swallowed hard, the blush growing more pronounced. "You heard me."

Kazuha, despite her secret hopes, was almost too stunned to respond. But Heiji was waiting, not quite patiently, for an answer. He was already fidgeting. She slipped her own arms up to form a loop around his neck. "Yeah, I guess I did."

He shifted nervously. "Soooooooo…"

"Well…" she said softly. "Mine, too."

His eyes nearly popped out of his head while his lower jaw crashed into the sidewalk. "Me? B-but wait a minute," he said with a shake of his head, confusion clouding his expression. "But—you were here with—Kira and you were—your date—bwuh?"

Kazuha laughed lightly. "You know, you've always been so clueless." Her fingers brushed against the back of his neck as she leaned in a little bit closer. "Well?"

"I…guess so," Heiji stammered. But he found himself echoing her movement and tilting his head, though his movements were much slower than hers. At her impatient look, he frowned. "Give me a sec—I've never done this before, and I'm trying to keep from shaking hard enough to register on the Richter scale." He suddenly looked so embarrassed.

She couldn't help but laugh. "It's all right. You're doing fine."

"O-okay…" he said. He took a deep breath, and they both leaned in, hoping it wouldn't be too terribly awkward for a first attempt at a very new experience…

"OH MY GOD!" a woman's voice shrieked from across the street. "HE'S DEAD!"

Kazuha paused.

Heiji twitched.

"I'm cursed, aren't I?" Heiji muttered.

"Someone's dead," Kazuha said, letting out a humorless laugh. "Of course someone's dead. Someone always has to die. Couldn't have waited five more minutes, have to drop dead now…"

Heiji hadn't moved yet.

She visibly glared, though she wasn't so much angry with him as she was with whoever had decided to commit a murder at that second, destroying what was possibly the most precious moment of her life thus far. "Shouldn't you get going?" she said bitterly. "Could be a serial killer. Could be some great criminal mastermind who hides all the evidence. They'll need you."

"Ahou, are you going to stop talking anytime soon so I can finish this?" Heiji finally cut her off.

"Hey, I was just—" she began indignantly.

"Shut. Up."

The next few seconds were void of words—and _extremely_ pleasant. When they let go, both gulped in a lungful of much-needed air. The word "wow" escaped both their lips on the crest of hurried breaths, and they both smiled at their identical reactions.

Kazuha sighed happily. "I'm glad you stayed."

"Yeah, me too," Heiji replied. "Glad I chased you down, too. I really should go thank that random guy in the restaurant…he had good advice!"

Her smile grew a bit more smug, her tone more teasing. "Glad I wore this dress."

At the rate Heiji's eyebrows were going up, they were probably going to make a permanent vacation home in his hairline. "As a matter of fact, so am I…" He might have said more, but the piercing wail of an approaching siren interrupted him.

Now it was Kazuha's turn to blush a bit darker and confess, "…'cause I did wear it for you. Too bad I had to beat you over the head with it to get you to realize it." The siren drew closer.

Heiji smiled, but kept throwing tiny glances back over his shoulder as the light from the squad cars was cast on the nearby buildings. The police were all but here, someone was dead, and Heiji was obviously torn between running off to solve the case, and staying right where he was.

In the end, Kazuha made the decision for him. "It's okay. I can walk home by myself. Go take care of that case." As if to accent her point, she rose up on tiptoe to press a chaste kiss to his cheek.

"Thank you!" he cheered, relieved. He started to run off, and she turned to head home when she heard his voice calling out, "Kazuha!" When she turned back around, it was just in time to catch his airborne jacket; judging by the fact that his arm was still in the air, he'd just lofted it at her. His smile was two miles wide. "Don't freeze!"

She slipped the jacket on as she watched him run off. It was so warm. And she smiled. "Ahou…"

* * *

**PS.** …_yes, I'm doing another challenge. No, I don't have a life. Just thought it was time to play with Heiji and Kazuha a bit. Hugs to balance out Kisses, yes? Besides, Shinichi and Ran's Kisses are about to be put to rest, so figured I might as well :)_

_Anyhoo, the story: this is taken directly from a conversation with **sapphirestars**. We improvised all of the dialogue in an AIM chat window. With her blessing, it was transposed into paragraph form and posted for the world to read. They will NOT all be this long, or I would DIE. Much love, all!_


	2. Shadowed Observation

**Title:** Shadowed Observation  
**Fandom:** Detective Conan  
**Theme: **#29—silhouette  
**Pairing:** Hattori Heiji/Toyama Kazuha  
**Rating:** PG  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Detective Conan or any related characters. They belong to Gosho Aoyama. I simply throw fruit at them, take pictures, and call it modern art. Critics love me.  
**Summary:** Heiji noticed right away that Kazuha had new bedroom curtains…

* * *

Kazuha glanced up at the clock on her nightstand…and rocketed off the bed in a panic. The magazine she had been so engrossed in reading dropped to the floor, where it lay forgotten as she sprinted to her closet in search of clothes.

"Crap, when did it get so late!" she murmured to herself as she started throwing things over her shoulder. Just her luck to lose track of time on a night when she and Heiji were supposed to go out for a bit. Well, go out in the literal sense, not going out on a Date. Just going to hang out together. That was all.

But now she had less than five minutes to make herself presentable before he got there, and she was still wearing her pajama pants and oversized T-shirt. Knowing him, he would decide to be on time just this once, if only to spite her. That was just his style—the man had made annoying into an art form, and she was his guinea pig.

No matter. She'd be ready in time if it killed her! There was no way in hell she was going to give him the satisfaction of having something he could hold over her head this early in the evening. Knowing him, he wouldn't let go of it all _night_.

Finally deciding on a suitable ensemble, she ripped the T-shirt over her head and yanked the tube top down into place. Kicking the pajama pants haphazardly aside, she started to pull the jeans on…and hit an unexpected snag in her rushed preparations.

Funny, these jeans were a little bit tighter than she remembered them being the last time she'd worn them…which hadn't been that long ago, had it? Now, logic would declare that she just grab a different pair of jeans. But Kazuha was a stubborn girl.

Furthermore, in the back of her mind, there was a clear recollection of some of Heiji's more recent comments, questioning as to whether or not she should be eating that. Well, she'd show him.

With renewed purpose, Kazuha set about forcing herself into the noncompliant clothing.

_**-o-**_

Heiji was rather proud of himself. He wasn't just on time, he was a couple minutes early. Wasn't that just going to be one in Kazuha's eye! She couldn't yell at him if he wasn't late. Smirking, he glanced up at her bedroom window. Even if she couldn't see it, he could still start gloating.

The first thing he noticed then was that Kazuha had gotten new bedroom curtains. He noticed it right away for one very, very important reason. Namely, he could see that her bedroom light was on right through them. And…

Well, more importantly, he could see Kazuha's shadow moving around in front of the window. She was just a silhouette, with no discernable features, but he could see her. And she was…what kind of movement was that, exactly? It looked like she was dancing.

Some strange dance that involved a lot of wiggling and hopping around.

Jump.

Wiggle.

Jump, jump.

Shimmy.

Hop.

Jump.

Shimmy.

Wiggle.

All performed with her hands grappling somewhere at the vicinity of her hips and waist.

…Heiji was absolutely spellbound. He just stood there for the next couple of minutes, staring at the shadowed form doing what looked like a perfect belly-dancing routine in front of her bedroom curtains, totally unaware that she had an audience.

Finally, she hopped up and down a couple of times, and strolled away from the window. The light clicked off. Startled out of his stupor, Heiji sprinted for the door. By now, he was going to get there right on time. Still shaking his head to clear the strange thoughts gathering there, he jogged to the front door. He took a deep breath and knocked.

The door opened before he'd even lowered his hand from the initial knock. Kazuha was standing there, red-faced and breathing hard…fully decent. Or at least as decent as a tube-top and those particular jeans could be considered. "Hey!" she said breathlessly. "Ready to go?"

Heiji's eyes immediately trailed downwards. How in God's name had she managed to get into those jeans? Had she given up breathing in some bizarre attempt to look hot? Not that Kazuha could ever manage hot, no way, no how, uh-uh, never ever…

As she stepped past him, he got a _very_ good look at exactly how those extremely fitted jeans hugged in all the right places, accenting the fact that she did, in fact, have some very visible curves. And…and…well, okay, maybe she could pull off that particular look. Sort of.

Not that he'd ever tell _her_ that, of course.

He realized belatedly that it was his God-given duty to come up with something to say here. Something, anything, as long as it was snark. But even as Heiji dug down into the very bottom of his tar-blackened little heart, he came up dry.

The reason?

Hot.

Super hot.

And sometimes, God help him, _the hot just wins._

"Heiji?" Kazuha was calling him now. "Are we going or what?"

"Yeah. Sure," he replied hastily, jogging to catch up. Still, he was smirking to himself; after all, he was eighteen, and there was that whole hormone thing to contend with. _Long may the days of our lives flow like sands through _her _hourglass…

* * *

_

**PS.** _Okay, confession time._ _There's a website called Go Fug Yourself, which usually mocks the worst of celebrity fashion. They are freakin' hilarious—the "sands through her hourglass" line was swiped with love from when they were talking about a particular Selma Hayek ensemble. It was a very unusual dress, but they couldn't snark her for one big reason: the woman is GORGEOUS._

_Anyway, after the hugeness of the last one…we're down to an itty-bitty plunnie. Hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. Thanks for reading, all. Much love!_


	3. Anniversary

**Title:** Anniversary  
**Fandom:** Detective Conan  
**Theme: **#3—snap snap!; photograph  
**Pairing:** Hattori Heiji/Toyama Kazuha  
**Rating:** PG  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Detective Conan or any related characters. They belong to Gosho Aoyama. I simply throw fruit at them, take pictures, and call it modern art. Critics love me.  
**Summary:** Something was very, very wrong with Kazuha…

* * *

Heiji knew Kazuha better than anyone. He could see right past the few masks she put up—not that she was generally one to hide things like that. If she was angry—especially with Heiji—everyone and their imaginary friend knew it within the hour.

So when she appeared in class one day with a stone mask so impassive that even _he_ couldn't tell what was actually going on beneath it…well, to say it had him concerned was an enormous understatement. By the end of first period, their entire class was buzzing with gossip: something was wrong with Kazuha-chan, and it was, amazingly enough, NOT Hattori's fault—he didn't have a _clue_ what was wrong with her.

Not that he had a clue any other time, whispered some. But this was different: she wasn't angry at all. She was just…not quite there. She seemed numb to the world. Even their teachers couldn't keep her focus on class for long. Her eyes kept drifting towards the window.

Heiji said nothing, after she didn't seem to hear his attempts at conversation. Not even a direct jibe could goad her into an argument. So he fell silent, casting only a passing ear to the furious whispers that were flying around the class, and kept a very close eye on her. She wasn't giving anything away, though, leaving him to join the rest of the world in trying to guess.

Still, as the day wore on, Heiji couldn't help but think that he should know what was wrong. There was something niggling in the back of his mind, telling him that it was something he should know…

What was wrong with Kazuha?

_**-o-**_

After school, they met for their usual walk home. Kazuha was as cheerful and animated as a stone temple statue. If it weren't for the fact that she'd muttered a half-hearted "Hello" when he'd approached her, he wouldn't have believed that she even knew he was there at all. She just stared straight ahead the entire way home.

Heiji spent the entire walk trying to decide what to do. Any other time, he would have just given her a flick to the forehead and goaded her into some sort of argument. But there was something holding him back right now—every time he tried to pull up some snark, some remark that would snap her out of it and make her eyes blaze with anger, he came up dry.

Instead, he spent the entire walk home watching her with curious eyes.

When they got to her house, she remained oblivious to his presence. She simply slipped off her shoes in a stiff, wooden manner that suggested she wouldn't have done so if it wasn't habit. Heiji silently imitated her actions, removed his own shoes, and followed her inside and up the stairs towards her room.

He got to the door just in time to see her flop down on her bed, staring up at the ceiling, still wearing her school uniform. She looked absolutely exhausted. He lingered for a moment longer in the doorway before crossing the room and taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

"You're still here?" she said softly—the first real words she'd spoken to him all day.

"Where else would I be?" he asked in reply.

"Hmm…" she shrugged noncommittally and rolled over.

"Kazuha, what's wrong?" Heiji prodded.

She was silent a moment. "It's the day."

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask what was wrong with the day—he thought it was rather lovely, save for her odd behavior—when he noticed something different from the norm in Kazuha's room. Namely, a particular photo on her desk. Rather than proudly sitting up in its usual place of honor, it was face-down on the desk.

Heiji stared questioningly at its new position…and it finally clicked. The realization hit with all the subtlety of an elephant jumping on his head. Oh dear God…how in the world had he forgotten something that important?

Kazuha was still lying on her side on the bed, her back to him; she didn't make a sound, nor did she jerk away when he reached out and put a tentative hand on her shoulder. "Hey…"

"S'okay. I'm fine. Mom's been gone twelve years. I'm fine."

"No, you're not." Heiji said.

They were quiet for a moment. It was strange, really, how they could go from loud, screaming arguments and constant screeches of AHOU…to quiet moments like these, when one was hurting terribly and the other could only sit there in silent comfort, uncertain of how to make things right.

Moving slowly, Heiji leaned down to rest his forehead on her shoulder. "You're not okay." He didn't quite understand—she hadn't reacted to the anniversary of her mother's passing like this in years, not since they were children. She had always smiled and shrugged it off.

"Hey," she said softly, "can you…?"

It really was a testament to their friendship that she didn't need to elaborate. And for once, there was no teasing or awkwardness about it; it was simply intuitive. Heiji simply pulled his legs up onto the bed and slid into place behind her, the front of his knees touching the backs of hers. One arm slid around her waist; his other hand curled under her neck, letting her head rest against his arm.

It was probably the most intimate position they'd ever been in, and yet romance was really the furthest thing from either of their minds. There was just hurt, and the need to try and soothe it, no matter how hopeless the case might seem.

"Has it really been that long?" Heiji asked.

"Hard to believe, isn't it?" she sighed; the breath was a shaky one, though, and he realized that she was fighting back tears. "I don't know why it hit me this hard. I just woke up and saw her picture and…it just hit me. I shouldn't be this upset—it's been so long…" She turned her head a little bit to give him a look. "You really should leave."

"No way."

"But—"

"I'm not going to laugh at you. I won't tease you. I promise. Go ahead."

Somehow, that simple reassurance was all it took. The dam broke, and Kazuha cried. Both hands clung to the arm around her neck; she leaned back against him and let out what she'd probably been holding in all day.

Heiji was silent. He simply waited for the storm to abate. It didn't take too long, though. Far sooner than he'd expected, the tears had receded to sniffles, and she was rubbing at her eyes with the back of one hand. "I needed that…I'm okay now."

"Kazuha—"

"I mean it. It's all right." She was silent for a moment before speaking again, and this time, he heard her smile. "Since when do you know how to be comforting like this?" It was only the tiniest bit teasing, but otherwise, she seemed grateful.

"…I don't know," Heiji said. He really hadn't thought before putting his arms around her and holding her like that. His body had just moved, and he hadn't thought to argue with it.

"Well…thank you," Kazuha said simply. "Thanks for being there for me." His arms were still around her, and one of her hands was still holding onto his wrist; she gave it a little squeeze as she spoke, as though to enforce her words.

Heiji smiled against her ponytail. "No problem." He was half-tempted to comment that she owed him one, but somehow, it just didn't seem like an appropriate time to make that joke. Contrary to Kazuha's oft-screeched beliefs, he did have tact and common sense; it was just more fun to watch her get angry then it was to actually _apply_ them.

"Do you want to get up?" she asked suddenly. It was an honest question, too—not a hint.

"Not really."

"Me neither."

A pause.

Kazuha yawned.

Heiji grinned. "Tired?"

"Exhausted…"

Nothing else really needed to be said. Before long, the two teens were sound asleep.

Such was the state that her father found them in later, when he got home from work. Heiji was still curled against Kazuha's back, his arms draped around her. She was holding onto his hand in a loose grip, mumbling in her sleep.

For a moment, the startled parent simply stood at the door and stared, taking in the scene. Nothing seemed to be horrendously amiss. It didn't seem that anything had happened that shouldn't have…

He sighed. He'd seen it earlier, that Kazuha hadn't been taking the day particularly well this year. So best to let them sleep a little while longer. Smiling a little, he closed the door and left them alone.

* * *

**PS.** _The whereabouts of Kazuha's mother within canon are, as yet, unknown. Therefore, the rules of fanon apply, and I get to play with it! Yaaaay! And hey—story number three, theme number three. Coincidence? I think not. Hope you had fun reading. Thanks, all—much love!_


	4. Don't Worry

**Title:** Don't Worry  
**Fandom:** Detective Conan  
**Theme: **#1—hazel eyes  
**Pairing:** Hattori Heiji/Toyama Kazuha  
**Rating:** PG  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Detective Conan or any related characters. They belong to Gosho Aoyama. I simply throw fruit at them, take pictures, and call it modern art. Critics love me.  
**Summary:** Does it really bother you that much…that I worry about you?

* * *

It was more of the same, just another day in their usual ritual, another moment in their long tradition of angry, heated arguments that more often than not were over nothing of any importance.

"AHOU!"

"AHOU!"

"AHOU!"

"AHOU!"

In keeping with their tradition, they were hollering at each other at the top of their lungs. The insult could almost have been considered their pet-name for one another, though the ferocity of their words continued to grow in anger. This was turning into a particularly vicious argument, a far cry from their usual petty bickering. And as with so many of their squabbles, neither of them could really remember what had sparked the actual _anger_, though they did know what had started the _argument_. There was a difference.

The initial discussion had been over one of Heiji's latest case, though—he'd had to actually chase down a particularly vicious serial killer, and though he'd succeeded in making the collar, he'd been injured in the ensuing struggle. It wasn't anything really life-threatening, but it was serious enough that he required immediate hospitalization for blood loss.

The minute he'd been released from the hospital, Kazuha had been waiting for him. As soon as she knew for certain that he was okay and wasn't going to keel over and die on her without warning, the lecture began. Before long, it had led into a full-blown fight, far more than their usual exchanges.

"Would you stop hovering over my shoulder?" Heiji said angrily, in regards to her suggestion that he needed someone to watch out for him. "You're not my mother, stop telling me what to do!"

"You obviously can't take care of yourself!" she growled in response; her face was flushed crimson with fury. "Somebody has to look after you! What's next, are you going to get yourself killed?"

"Get off my back!"

"Well, excuse me for worrying about you!" Kazuha screamed right into his face. Her hands were clenched dangerously into white-knuckled fists at her sides.

"I don't want you worrying about me, now leave me alone!" he snapped, finally whirling around to storm off, most likely to go off and brood and mope somewhere until tempers had sufficiently cooled.

"Heiji…"

In spite of himself, he paused at the sound of his name. Her tone had changed dramatically in the past few seconds, and that alone was enough to make him halt in his tracks.

"…does it really bother you that much?" Her voice was small now, the anger gone.

Startled, Heiji turned to face her. "Does what bother me that much?"

Kazuha's eyes were downcast, her expression unusually somber. "…that I worry about you?"

Heiji opened his mouth…and shut it again with a snap, realizing that he didn't have a clue what to say. When he made to speak again, it was a bit more cautious, but definitely no more intelligent. "What?"

She raised her green eyes to meet his surprised gaze head-on. "You just always seem to get so irritated when I get concerned, and…I mean, detective work can be dangerous, and I just…I just…" she started in a rush, but trailed off at the end, leaving the thought unfinished.

Heiji's mouth hung open in slack-jawed amazement.

"I do worry about you," she went on quietly; her expression had softened into gentle affection. "I know we fight all the time and you annoy the hell out of me sometimes, but…you're my best friend, Heiji, and I don't want anything to happen to you. And you do have a habit of ending up in the hospital—don't argue, you know it's true. It always scares me because I never know if you're okay. Heiji, if something happened to you…"

"Kazuha…" he said her name without intending to.

She fidgeted uneasily and kept her gaze strictly on the floor, twisting her hands nervously together in front of her. "Do you understand? _Can_ you understand? No matter what you say, I'm going to worry about you—and I know you worry about me, too, ahou, please don't try to deny it. If you mean what you said, though…I can't just stop worrying about you, no matter what you say. So…"

"No, I didn't…" Heiji cleared his throat noisily and shifted his eyes. "I didn't mean it."

Kazuha hadn't planned on moving. She really hadn't. But before she realized what she was doing, she was pressed against him, her arms reaching under his arms to form a tight loop around his torso, her forehead planted in his shoulder. Though she hadn't intended to hug him, she was still subconsciously very careful to hold onto his upper torso in a way that wouldn't aggravate the injury that had landed him in the emergency room.

"Oi, Kazuha…"

"Heiji…don't scare me like that anymore…you idiot…I don't want you to get hurt…"

Intellectually, Heiji didn't have a clue what to do; instinctively, though, his body just moved on its own. His nervous hands made their shaky way to return the act, his fingers splayed across her lower back. When he realized that she wasn't letting go—she was _that_ scared—he felt a bit more courage, and tightened his hold; his cheek came to rest against her hair. It was embarrassing, but…he really didn't mind as much as he probably should have.

"Don't worry," he said softly, trying to find the words to ease her concerns.

"I told you, I can't help it."

"Hey, I'm not dead yet."

"That's because you're the world's luckiest SOB."

"Don't be difficult," he said, pushing her shoulders back so she had to look up at him. "Come on."

Green eyes spoke volumes of that same worry, the concern for him that was always present…but she nodded slowly. Her gaze dropped, and one hand reached down, one finger lightly tracing a line over his side to feel the bandage beneath his shirt. "If you ever scare me like that again…Heiji, if you die, I swear I'll kill you myself."

Heiji chuckled, realizing that they were okay. "Kazuha, I would pay money to see that."

* * *

**PS.** _Random little plunnie, very short._ _Not a clue where it came from, but I thought it was kind of sweet. The "if you die, I'll kill you line" was inspired by someone's LJ icon, and I can't remember whose! Hope you enjoyed it. And now…I'm off to Europe. WHEE! Thanks and much love to all, see you in a week! CIAO! Germany and Austria, here I come!_

_(skips off merrily with suitcase in hand)_


	5. Splish Splash

**Title:** Splish Splash  
**Fandom:** Detective Conan  
**Theme: **#27—splash  
**Pairing:** Hattori Heiji/Toyama Kazuha  
**Rating:** PG  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Detective Conan or any related characters. They belong to Gosho Aoyama. I simply throw fruit at them, take pictures, and call it modern art. Critics love me.  
**Summary:** It's one of the best parts of summer.

* * *

Going to the swimming pool was one of the standard summer activities of most teenagers. It was even better when Ran-chan and Conan-kun were in town and could go with them—the more, the merrier.

However, Kazuha was still absolutely bewildered as to where Heiji had come up with his favorite pool pastime. Honestly, how in the world had he thought of trying to guess girls' bathing suits? She really should just ask…and then possibly bop him on the head, just for good measure.

And now, she watched him prodding Conan into participating into said game. Why did he feel the need to corrupt the young? Wasn't it bad enough that he was such an ahou? He shouldn't be trying to rub off on an impressionable seven-year-old.

Still, Conan seemed entertained, almost amused at the idiocy—Kazuha privately suspected that it might have been because the boy was actually smarter than Heiji. But she waited until her wayward friend was alone for a moment (Ran had collected Conan to go in search of beverages for everyone) to tell him so, in accordance with her duties as Official Best Friend.

The response was a Classic Combination. First, he looked all irritated. Then he gave her the patented Heiji Glare, and then he called her an ahou. She'd been expecting just that. He was so predictable.

Rolling her eyes, she put one hand on his chest—his bare, damp, tanned, rather muscular chest, she noted without saying so (the girl was many things, but she wasn't blind)—and gave him a half-hearted push. She was slightly surprised when he actually jumped to fall backwards into the water with a sizable splash. Moreso, he didn't come back up…

"Heiji?" she looked around; he'd gone down _far_ too easily. "Heiji?" She glanced down at the big dark blob down at the bottom of the pool. On reflex, she slapped the surface of the water, sending a small spray of droplets flying in every direction; even though she knew he couldn't hear her, she felt compelled to make a comment anyway. "Ahou, get out of there before you drown."

He didn't obey—no surprise there. But the shadow below the water's surface moved. It circled her legs (she could have sworn she heard the Jaws theme playing…) before disappearing behind her.

From underwater, arms slid tightly around her waist. She had about two seconds to take a breath and hold it before she was pulled backwards; her back arched as she descended back into the water headfirst with a nice splash.

Even though she'd taken the breath and was subconsciously ready for this, she wasn't quite ready for the fact that the water was damn near Arctic in temperature. Instinct clocked in, and the second she was released she started kicking like crazy to get her head back above water.

Kazuha finally surfaced, sputtering like crazy.

Heiji was already back above water, waiting expectantly.

Kazuha glared, making a vain attempt to shove her wet bangs out of her eyes.

Heiji was grinning like…well, like an idiot.

Kazuha was not surprised at this. She sighed, and gave up on trying to prevent the smile that was tugging at the corner of her mouth. As the wry smirk inched its way across her features, she shook her head at his childish antics…

And grabbed his shoulders and dunked him, finally initiating a full-blown water fight.

* * *

**PS.** _Ah, random silliness, of the very short variety._ _A nice break from the fluzzy angst and such, I think. Fun to write, too. Anyway, I got back from Europe in one piece—had a blast, didn't touch my fics the entire time I was there, and I'm pretty sure they took my muses out of my head while I was going through customs, 'cause the ideas are gone…anyhoo, thanks for reading, all. Catch ya later!_


	6. The Dangers of Hormones

**Title:** The Dangers of Hormones  
**Fandom:** Detective Conan  
**Theme: **#21—sois un ange; be an angel  
**Pairing:** Hattori Heiji/Toyama Kazuha  
**Rating:** PG  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Detective Conan or any related characters. They belong to Gosho Aoyama. I simply throw fruit at them, take pictures, and call it modern art. Critics love me.  
**Summary:** Pregnant women are a LOT of fun.

* * *

After two years of marriage—and two years of hinting from their own parents that ranged from subtly-dropped clues to outright demands for grandchildren—Heiji and Kazuha finally received the good news that Kazuha was pregnant. The celebration was immediate, and planning began for the new arrival.

Heiji was very careful when announcing the news, though. As his wife had told him, it was acceptable to tell people, "We are having a baby." But she warned him that if she ever heard him utter the phrase, "We're pregnant," she would deck him, expecting or not. They were having a baby, but she was the pregnant one, thank you very much.

He respected that, too. After all, she had a point.

Still, Heiji considered himself relatively prepared to deal with whatever curveballs this pregnancy might throw at him. He'd had a long discussion with Kudo on the topic when he'd called to tell his friend and fellow detective the good news. Having taken care of a pregnant Ran merely a year before, Kudo's advice was simple: expect the unexpected, and know that some of those weird rumors about pregnant women are very, very true.

The rapid mood swings really weren't anything new. Heiji had always secretly wondered if Kazuha was slightly bipolar, going from cheery and smiling one minute to beating the hell out of him the next. With the onset of hormones, they just happened more often than usual. But really, nothing major.

The cravings were interesting, though. Once they sort of figured out what her primary food craving was, they stocked up. Their pantry cupboard held enough canned beets and green beans to feed either an entire army regiment, or a hungry pregnant woman—in this case, the latter. The supply had to be replenished regularly.

When her stomach began to grow as the months passed, Heiji assured her that she was still beautiful and he still loved her. And as childish as it seemed (to him, at least), he enjoyed lying beside her, one hand on her abdomen, feeling the movement inside her and knowing what it was and what it meant.

…and then there was the time (around the seventh month) that Heiji had come home from a police call to find Kazuha sitting on the kitchen floor, finishing off the last of a pint of Haagen-Daaz ice cream that he knew for a fact had been full when he'd left, since he'd personally purchased it and stuck it in the freezer the day before. She was crying her pretty green eyes out.

When he asked her why, she sobbed that he hadn't kissed her goodbye before he'd left to go to his case. Thus, she had invariably concluded, he didn't love her anymore, probably because she'd gotten so fat and it was over and on and on and on…she'd apparently been there since he'd left. Well over an hour ago.

Heiji sat down on the floor next to her and gave her a hug…and joined her.

Husband and wife had a good, long cry together.

A _very_ long cry.

Then they had dinner.

Setting aside those odd little speed bumps, though, things were going along relatively smoothly, and Heiji was pretty sure there was nothing he couldn't handle so far as the quirks of pregnancy went.

One thing he hadn't counted on at all, however—something he had never even _dreamed_ of having to deal with—was having to play guardian angel to a very pregnant woman…who seemed to have some passively suicidal tendencies. Said tendencies manifested themselves rather suddenly one day when they were out walking in the city.

Before Heiji knew what was happening, Kazuha was stepping off the sidewalk and right into the middle of very heavy traffic. He heard the squeal of brakes and some loud swearing from many a driver. Yet Kazuha seemed blissfully unaware of it, and continued happily on her way across the road.

Moving quickly, he grabbed her arms and dragged her out of the street. Once they were back to the safety of the sidewalk, he whirled on her. "Kazuha, what the hell are you doing?" he asked in a rush, giving her shoulders a shake. He wasn't really angry so much as frightened—she could have been killed! Fortunately, those drivers were paying attention.

To his amazement, Kazuha smiled, meeting his eyes with a sort of hypnotized, glassy-eyed gaze. "They won't hit me," she said serenely. Her expression was that of a person experiencing some sort of drug-induced euphoria, like the floaty feeling one can get from taking prescription cough syrup.

Heiji shook his head, bewildered. "What do you mean, they won't hit you?"

"They won't hit me," Kazuha repeated, gesturing to her swollen belly. "I'm pregnant."

He stared at her for a moment longer before a possibility occurred to him. Shaking his head and muttering to himself, Heiji took his wife by the hand and led her towards their destination. He kept a firm grip on her, lest her hormones decide to make her attempt any other death-defying stunts by telling her that pregnancy would somehow protect her.

When the baby came a month and a half later—and he knew that both his wife and new daughter were safe and healthy—Heiji was relieved, to say the least. Granted, his hand was a lovely purple-black color, having served to take the brunt of Kazuha's labor pains…but oh well.

At least she wasn't walking out in front of speeding cars.

_**-o-**_

Three years later, a very pregnant Kazuha stood on the corner of a busy street with her young daughter at her side when little Amaya, still a mere toddler, stepped off the curb, heading straight for the rush of oncoming traffic.

Kazuha reacted as any responsible mother would. She immediately reached down and grabbed her child's hand to pull the little girl back onto the safety of the sidewalk. "Amaya-chan," she said in her best Mommy voice, "we don't walk out in front of traffic. That's dangerous."

Holding onto her mother's hand tightly, Amaya nodded.

Daddy didn't need to tell Mommy not to walk out in front of cars—she already knew!

* * *

**PS.** _This is what I call a BOATS fic: Based On A True Story. The woman in question was my mother, and the child she was pregnant with just happened to be me. She told me about it one day when we were crossing a busy street on foot, and I thought it was hilarious. This led up to the discussion about how it drives us absolutely nuts when we hear expectant fathers saying, "We're pregnant." No, sir, you're not—SHE'S pregnant. I'm all for togetherness and equality and stuff, but come on._

_Basically, the whole PWP story was based on things my mom told me happened to her while she was waiting for me to pop into the world, except that last little bit. She didn't walk into the street as often when she was carrying my sister because I was usually with her. For those who don't know, I love my Mommy :) Thanks for reading—twenty percent done! Much love!_


	7. Rumor Has It

**Title:** Rumor Has It  
**Fandom:** Detective Conan  
**Theme: **#2—rainbows and butterflies  
**Pairing:** Hattori Heiji/Toyama Kazuha  
**Rating:** PG  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Detective Conan or any related characters. They belong to Gosho Aoyama. I simply throw fruit at them, take pictures, and call it modern art. Critics love me.  
**Summary:** Apparently, everyone at school STILL thinks we're dating.

* * *

It had been a very, very long day at school, complete with a nice screaming argument during the lunch hour, and the accompanying gossip and chatter from their classmates. And then the usual questions and comments had started in earnest… 

"Are you two dating yet?"

"Of course he likes you!"

"When are you gonna hook up?"

"It's obvious she likes you."

"You're perfect for each other!"

"You should seriously just date."

"You mean they aren't dating?"

"Just admit it already!"

"If you're not gonna date her, can I? …why are you looking at me like that?"

"Hattori, put the katana down! He's not worth it!"

"See, told ya he liked her!"

"…for the record, Kazuha-chan has a really good right hook. Does my nose look broken?"

"They're being defensive. Give 'em time."

"Denial isn't just a river in Egypt…"

Everyone was whispering and giggling and gossiping. The worst was that a good deal of this was done within earshot of the two parties involved, be it a lack of tact, a lack of caring, or simply a lack of knowing that the people in question were nearby.

Needless to say, Heiji and Kazuha were both in _extremely_ sour moods by the end of the day. When the final bell rang and they were finally free of the hellhole known as school, they grabbed their stuff and jetted out of there as fast as was humanly possibly, ignoring the jeers and jabbering of their friends and classmates as they sprinted.

Once they were on the sidewalk and safely out of sight of the school and everyone associated with it, Kazuha finally let out a long growl of pent-up frustration. "God, what is wrong with everyone!" she huffed, stomping along. "We've been walking to and from school together since we were in elementary school—why the hell is it such a big deal now?"

Heiji's irritation was pretty much on level with hers, and in arare moment of totalagreement,his response was just as incensed and huffy about the whole stupid affair. "Apparently, it's the high school equivalent of a marriage proposal."

"They've been like this since we were in middle school," she said, trying to force herself to calm down. "You'd think after all this time, everyone at school would get it through their heads and get off our backs. We're just friends. Always have been."

"Exactly," Heiji agreed.

There was a very long silence as they continued walking home. Eventually, her house came into view, signaling the end of their bi-daily walk. It was at this point that Heiji turned to her and finally spoke. "So do you want to go out sometime?"

"Yes." Kazuha responded before the last word had even left his mouth.

He slung an arm around her shoulders in a loose hug. "So are we telling anyone at school?"

"Would it change anything if we did?"

"I can already hear everyone saying 'I told you so.'"

"Point. Guess it doesn't matter. I'll still probably have to yell at you a few times a day."

"…ahou."

"You just make it so easy."

And thus, another argument began, completely oblivious to the fact that something was finally starting to blossom between them. Yelling matches came before dates--everyone knew that.

Okay, so maybe their relationship wasn't exactly normal. Heck, to normal people it didn't even seem healthy; it was almost verbally abusive, considering the way they argued and yelled at each other, and of course, their mutual pet-name of "ahou." But if everything was always rainbows and butterflies, things would get awfully boring, now wouldn't they?

* * *

**PS.** _Another "shower plunnie," of the very short PWP variety._ _I get a lot of ideas in the shower—it's just weird. Must be the smell of my shampoo that does it or something…anyway, just something really random and rather silly for the seventh Hug as I tried to envision the most unromantic date request ever. In other words, totally within Heiji's character._

_I promise I will try to write a longer one for the next one. The key word is "try." Thanks, all—much love!_


	8. My Lips are Sealed

**Title:** My Lips are Sealed  
**Fandom:** Detective Conan  
**Theme: **#26—"I never say the truth."  
**Pairing:** Hattori Heiji/Toyama Kazuha  
**Rating:** PG  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Detective Conan or any related characters. They belong to Gosho Aoyama. I simply throw fruit at them, take pictures, and call it modern art. Critics love me.  
**Summary:** Every time I deny it, I'm lying through my teeth.

* * *

Heiji really is an ahou, you know.

And it's not just because he's stubborn. It's not just because he's argumentative—believe me, that's not it. I am too, I freely admit it. It's not just because he can piece together the most complex murder mysteries imaginable, but half the time he can't remember where he left his shoes (true story, too).

Heiji is an ahou because he doesn't see things. He can spot the tiniest, most insignificant clues to unlock unsolvable cases, but he can't seem to grasp something that's right in front of him, no matter how obvious or glaring it may be.

And that's why he's an ahou.

I've listened to a lot of people say that we're meant to be, and that they can tell we have feelings for each other. These rumors range from mere crushes to full-blown love to things that I know none of them would say in front of their mothers. And Heiji and I get angry and our faces get red and we scream about how idiotic that is.

It's so stupid, really. Every time I deny those rumors, I'm lying through my teeth.

I really am aware of how I feel. It took me a long time to figure it out, though. I'm as stubborn as Heiji is, really, and I don't always like to admit that things change. So it took me a while to piece things together and realize why my chest started tightening whenever Heiji smiled and why I was always so happy to be near him, even if we were arguing.

Once I realized my own feelings, I went through a pretty long denial period. Me? Have feelings for Heiji? Ridiculous! It was just all those jibes and rumors from school, they were starting to get to me. That was all…yeah, right. But I accepted it after a while. How long could I really deny that I'd fallen for my best friend, the guy I'd shared a playpen with?

It's such a horrible cliché.

Do I think there's any hope that he'll come around anytime soon or that he'll suddenly confess to me that he has feelings for me? Hardly! This is Heiji we're talking about. Half the time, I don't think even _he_ knows what's going on in his head. And there's always that tiny little fear that tells me someday he'll find someone—some beautiful, special woman who can follow all his theories without him having to re-explain everything for us lesser mortals. And then I'll be left behind for real. There are no guarantees.

So why do I put myself through this? Why do I stick around? Why do I stand by his side, nagging and teasing and heckling him like I do? Someone once commented that the way we act is almost verbally abusive—why do I tolerate the way he treats me? And why does he tolerate the way I treat him?

I don't know why he puts up with it…but I know why I do. Because even if we're not quite together in the way I sort of wish we were…we are still together. And that's more than a lot of people have, I think. A lot of people watch us argue and scream and fight, and shake their heads in wonder as to how we could possibly call ourselves friends. But we are friends.

Heiji is my best friend, and has been for my whole life. And even though it doesn't always show in the conventional way, he does care about me in his own bizarre way. He's put himself in harm's way for my sake, just as I have for him. There is a bond there. But even I'm not sure exactly how deep it runs.

Plus, I know we argue a lot. But really, I guess that's how we communicate. Don't get me wrong, we do have real conversations sometimes. We tease, we laugh, we talk, and we argue. We're connecting, and we're sharing. Yes, sometimes it goes a little too far, but…weighing it against everything else, it just doesn't seem that important, really.

Ran-chan says that she thinks our relationship is very stable. And really, it is. I know that he won't leave me behind, and I don't plan on ditching him anytime soon. And yet I'm left with a dilemma. Is it better to keep my secret and maintain our odd form of stability, or should I take the risk, tell him what's really going on, and hope that somehow, he feels the same?

I know it's probably better to be honest. But I just can't bring myself to bring my little secret out into the open. I guess I'm too afraid of what might happen or what might change. I know I'm a coward, but at least this way I can stay with him. I'm afraid to 'fess up because of the changes it could bring, and…

Well…

Contrary to what others might think, I know Heiji worries about me. And I'm afraid that if I told him the truth about how I feel, he might worry. He might be concerned...and he might stop smiling. It's worth it to me, to stay quiet (well, quiet about certain matters, I guess) and follow him on all those dumb cases, because I get to see him smile like that.

Of course, there's some other part of me that's afraid he might get it into his thick head that I'm joking or kidding around, and he'll laugh at me. I'm _pretty_ sure that's ridiculous…but if he did laugh at me, I think it would break my heart.

So I keep my mouth shut.

Sometimes it hurts. There have been nights when I've had dreams of us. Some nights, they're beautiful and I find myself in his arms; we're together at last. Other nights, I watch him walk away without looking back; I've lost him forever. But then I wake up. I wrap my arms around myself and try to tell myself that it was just a dream…or a nightmare. It's enough, though.

Our relationship is a lot more complicated than it appears at first glance, isn't it? And so few people seem to realize that. They just stand there and jeer, and Heiji hollers denials right back at them. So he either doesn't feel the same way, he just won't admit it…or he's unaware of it, as I was for a long time.

So I don't say anything. My lips are sealed, and I will never tell him the whole truth.

Heiji is an ahou. This can't be denied.

Yet I fell in love with him.

I have to wonder what that says about me.

* * *

**PS.** _My logic for this: Kazuha seems to be fairly aware of her feelings regarding Heiji, though she won't directly admit those feelings out loud. There's just a few things she has said and done that lead me to believe that she more or less knows how she feels about him, even if he doesn't have a clue. Hence, she gets a sweet little POV fic about it._

_I hope you enjoyed it, everyone. Thanks for reading! Much love!_


	9. Subconscious

**Title:** Subconscious  
**Fandom:** Detective Conan  
**Theme: **#4—teddy bear  
**Pairing:** Hattori Heiji/Toyama Kazuha  
**Rating:** PG  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Detective Conan or any related characters. They belong to Gosho Aoyama. I simply throw fruit at them, take pictures, and call it modern art. Critics love me.  
**Summary:** I'm going to talk to youfor a while, even though you can't hear me.

* * *

Heiji? Hello, Heiji? Would you pay attention to me already!

I guess you probably don't even know who I am, do you? Allow me to introduce myself. I am your subconscious. I know things about you that you don't even know—comes with being the part of your mind that you don't get to dig around in. Needless to say, we've got a lot to discuss.

The big issue here is Kazuha.

It's hilarious, the way you both blatantly deny that there's anything going on between you, it's totally platonic, you're just friends, stop saying we're married or I'll beat your head in with a katana and make it look like an accident…I think it's funny, because I know it's not true.

You are so in love with her. If you actually realized just how much in love with her you really are, I don't think you'd be able to function normally for a while. Yup, you've got it, and you've got it bad. Trouble is that you're also too much of a cretin to realize it. See the problem here?

Of course you don't. You don't even know that I exist. See what I put up with?

Anyway, focus. Another dead body, whoop dee doo. Damn things follow you around. Can't go anywhere without someone getting murdered. Every consider getting exorcised? It might help. Now you and Shorty are going to go do your thing, yay rah fun. Time to ask everyone what happened and where they were when it happened, yadda yadda…

Holy crap, look at that! She's hugging that guy! What is he, a teddy bear? That should be you. You'd both be a whole lot happier if it was, I think. And you can't figure out why the hell you're so pissed off. Real brilliant, detective.

While you do your detective thing, I'm going to just continue rambling at you, even though you're totally unaware of my existence. Why won't you just get a clue? Remember the Spider Mansion thing, when she was all strung up like that and you thought she was dead? You freaked—total freak-out. And how about that little cliff incident? She was willing to die for you.

I feel sorry for that girl. You two have been best friends since you were kids. She's been right there by your side, sticking with you through your best, your worst, and everything in between. She knows you inside and out, though not as well as I do, of course. I am a part of your mind, after all. You guys argue all the time—hell, I'd almost call that verbal abuse, really—but godammit, she's still sticking with you.

You. Love. Her.

She. Loves. You.

…and you're busy working with Four Eyes down there and solving the case. Why am I even bothering? Probably because I'm a part of you, and therefore I apparently have a few of your personality traits, be they desirable or not.

Oh, you've solved it. Why am I not surprised? One of these days, you'll learn that there is actually more to life than mysteries. And no, I don't mean just kendo, either. For a seventeen-year-old guy, you really need to spend some more time thinking about the important things in life.

Like girls.

Don't make me start messing with your hormones. It won't be pretty.

Wait…you've figured something out? About Kazuha?

I'm afraid to even look, because I never know what your mind is going to cook up next. You can piece together these freakish murders from the slightest clue, but you can't pick up on what she's trying to tell you. I swear, that poor girl could run into the room stark naked wearing a sign that said "CLUE" and stand on her head, and you'd probably ask if she was cold.

Okay, case solved. Yay for you. Big whoop. And yes, I know for a fact that you liked it when she hugged you. You think you're so tough. Anyway, now's your big chance. Go get her, big guy!

…no. No, you IDIOT!

She is not your "little follower." She is your best friend, and probably the woman who'll bear your children someday. Hopefully, they'll get more from her end of the gene pool than yours, Heiji.

Oh, come on. Hug her! Kiss her! Do something, anything! Just don't stand there with that stupid smile on your face, like you've just won some big-ass prize. Kazuha's right. You're an ahou.

For the record, I'll spell it out for you. Heiji, yes, you love her.

No, it is NOT a boss's concern for his little follower. You moron.

I almost wish I had arms so I could slap you myself. But judging from the look on Kazuha's face, she's more than willing to do that for me. So I'll leave her to it. Let the girl have her fun. I think she's earned it, considering she puts up with you all the time.

…I really wish you could hear me. It would make my job a whole lot easier.

Oh well. Sooner or later I'll get to dump a few clues into your mind, and not just that stupid petty jealousy thing I'm stuck doing right now. Maybe the next time you two are dangling off a cliff and you're actually admitting that you're worried about her, I'll be able to kick you in the proverbial ass.

Solve your case, detective. Revel in your little victory. Ignore the glares she's giving you. Chatter with the short guy—I think he thinks you're an idiot in this respect, too. I also think I like that kid.

Someday, Hattori. Someday, you'll clue in that you fell for your best friend.

Let's just hope she doesn't kill you first.

* * *

**PS.** _If you like, you can consider this a sort of companion piece the previous Hug. As you can probably tell, I believe that yes, Heiji has feelings for Kazuha, but based on the magician case (featured in this Hug, Volume 47, Files 8-11), I don't think he is actually aware of it. So his cluelessness isn't totally feigned. He knows something's up, but he can't figure out what it is. And lo, an extremely strange POV was born._

_Hope you enjoyed it! Thanks for reading and reviewing, everyone. Much love!_


	10. The Arrangement

**Title:** The Arrangement  
**Fandom:** Detective Conan  
**Theme: **#8—fairytales  
**Pairing:** Hattori Heiji/Toyama Kazuha  
**Rating:** PG  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Detective Conan or any related characters. They belong to Gosho Aoyama. I simply throw fruit at them, take pictures, and call it modern art. Critics love me.  
**Summary:** Mom, Dad…I'm never going to forgive you for this!

* * *

"I am _never_ speaking to you again."

Toyama sighed. "Kazuha, would you please at least try to be reasonable?"

"I think never speaking to you again is perfectly reasonable," the eighteen-year-old girl stormed. "I can't believe you're doing this to me! How could you do this to me, Dad? Did I do something wrong? Is this punishment for something?"

"Kazuha," he said warningly. She sensed that her father was rapidly losing patience, but she really didn't care. At the very least, he deserved to have his blood pressure kicked up a couple of notches, anyway, especially after springing _THAT_ on her.

And then he'd had the nerve to make her dress up for this horrible meeting. Begrudgingly, she'd yanked on a knee-length khaki skirt and a black V-necked sweater over a white collared shirt. Her father had hailed a taxi, and they were off.

"Well, here we are," Toyama said, far too cheerfully for his daughter's tastes.

She looked up at the building in front of them—it was a nice restaurant, an appropriate place for the type of meeting that was about to take place. The ponytailed girl crossed her arms and shot him another glare. "You are dead to me."

"Kazuha, can you at least _try_ to be pleasant?" her father pleaded.

She ignored him. Still grimacing, she stormed through the front door—and stopped dead in her tracks when someone just inside the door turned around to see who was walking in.

"Kazuha?" Heiji frowned in surprise. "What're you doing here?"

She was still a moment before she leapt forward. "Oh thank God!" she grabbed his arm. "Sanity!"

Heiji looked vaguely alarmed. "Wait a sec…you're actually happy to see me?"

"You make more sense than he does!" Kazuha hissed, jabbing a finger in her father's direction. "Could you do me a favor and try to talk him back to Earth? Because I'm pretty sure he's lost his mind!"

He blinked at her for a second, then looked at her father, confused. "Umm…your daughter thinks you're crazy." He was now so bent on figuring out what the hell Kazuha was babbling about that he didn't even notice that his parents suddenly looked quite pleased with themselves. "Kazuha, what's going on?"

"You're not going to believe this," she ranted angrily, "but apparently, my dad doesn't think I'm ever going to handle things on my own, so—are you ready for this?—I'm about to become the victim of an _Arranged. Marriage_." She accented the words sharply and threw her hands up in frustration. "Can you believe it? And I am never speaking to—to _that_," she pointed at her father once more, "ever again!"

Heiji looked appropriately affronted—for a second. Then it was as if the switch flipped on and all those little wheels and gears in his well-trained brain started turning 'round and 'round. "Kazuha…" he said in an oddly strained tone of voice, "…so why exactly are you here right now?"

Kazuha rolled her eyes. "Dinner. Why else? Apparently we're supposed to be meeting my…" she paused and grimaced, "…my fiancé here." A pause, and a very suspicious glimmer wormed its way into her eyes as she noticed, for the first time in her outrage, that Heiji was dressed up as well—khakis and a dark green sweater. That was dressed up for him, at least. "…what brings you here tonight?"

There was a very pregnant pause as it clicked.

Kazuha whirled around to stare at her father in shock, while Heiji found himself staring, horrified, into his parents oh-so-satisfied grins. The adults all watched as a wide gambit of emotions and colors raced their way across the faces of the two teenagers.

Oh…_oh._ Oh no. Oh dear God!

The parents were waiting expectantly for the real reactions, and the two teenagers did not disappoint. In perfect unison, loud enough to silence the entire restaurant, Heiji and Kazuha both shrieked a single word at the top of their lungs.

"**_WHAT?"_**

_**-o-**_

After stopping the two of them from stomping out on the spot (and running away to Germany or some such thing), they were shown to their table. Once they had all placed their orders, the three parents faced two very sullen eighteen-year-olds on the other side of the table. Neither Heiji nor Kazuha spoke, but simply glared in silent fury and waited for the explanation that had damn well better be forthcoming, else they just might do something violent.

Such was their natures.

"We're just very concerned," Toyama was saying, not letting those withering stares get to him. "You're both going to graduate soon and be going off to college. Neither of you really seem to have given any thought to the matter. So we discussed it, and we feel that it would be in both your best interests if you two were to get married."

"So you went behind our backs," Heiji growled. "You didn't even think to ask us our opinion on the matter. You just decided to go ahead and make a decision for us about how we're going to live the rest of our lives. Am I understanding this right?"

"You make it sound so…" Shizuka said airily, "…negative."

Heiji quickly reminded himself that he loved his mother, and reigned in his temper in record time.

"Heiji," his father began, "you're almost an adult. It's time you think about settling down."

"Would this have something to do with the fact that Okan wants grandchildren?" Heiji snapped.

Shizuka managed to look innocent, while Heizo sighed. "Heiji, don't be difficult."

"I think we have every right to be difficult, as you so delicately put it," Kazuha joined in.

"Kazuha…" her father said warningly.

She ignored him. "You're not even trying to understand how we feel!"

"You two have known each other your whole lives," Shizuka pointed out. "There's a great deal of trust, and a strong friendship there." Toyama muttered something that sounded suspiciously like _At least…_ while she continued. "It's a good match."

"Is there a reason you didn't discuss this with us before you tried to set it up?" Heiji demanded.

"Because we knew you would act like you are now," Heizo said, his own temper rising a bit. "Heiji, you're eighteen years old. Stop acting like a child. This is a good match."

The conversation was silenced momentarily as their appetizers arrived. As they began to eat, the parents tried to cajole their children into further discussion, but Heiji and Kazuha simply stared at their plates and refused to say much else, nor did they look at each other. After dinner, it was announced that they were all going over to the Hattori residence. The parents were firm about it; no arguments were permitted. And the teenagers continued to sulk angrily.

_**-o-**_

Kazuha didn't even stop at the door, not even bothering to take her shoes off, and not seeming to care much for manners or rudeness. She stormed in the front door, straight through the house, and right out the back door onto the back porch. Heiji stomped up directly up the stairs to his room.

The parents stood in the doorway for a moment.

Shizuka broke the silence. "Let them be for a while. They don't usually hold onto grudges for long. Once they calm down, I'm sure we'll be able to talk this out." She was smiling, the smug grin of a cat who has just found herself locked in a creamery.

Heizo gave his wife a suspicious Look. He knew that particular expression all too well, and it usually didn't bode well. "You have no doubts whatsoever that they'll agree to it, do you?"

"None at all," she replied airily, moving towards the kitchen. "Shall I serve tea?"

_**-o-**_

Heiji lay in the darkness of his room, sprawled on his back, staring at the ceiling. He'd been there like that for a while. Outwardly, he looked relatively calm, though there was no one there to see him.

Inwardly, he was burning. Absolutely furious. How dare his parents go behind his back like that? How _dare_ they? How could they? He really couldn't even form coherent thoughts, he was still that livid!

With a sigh, he rolled onto his side. His head was starting to hurt.

No, that wasn't helping. He flipped onto his other side and tried that. No—he was still pissed off.

Finally, he just sat up, temper still flaring furiously.

He needed to yell. He needed to rant. He needed…

He rolled off the bed and slipped out of his room, moving soundlessly down the stairs and out the door, not even bothering to change out of his house scuffs and into his normal shoes; it wasn't really necessary, as he was only going out on the porch.

What he really needed was to talk to Kazuha.

_**-o-**_

Kazuha sat on the back porch, her knees pulled up to her chest, trying to sort out her thoughts.

It really was a lovely night, clear and starry. The moon was a sliver shy of being full. The air was cool and calm. It would have been utterly beautiful…if she wasn't such a wreck. Everything was in such a tangled jumble…she didn't know if she'd ever be able to figure out what was what.

Marriage. An arranged marriage—to Heiji, no less.

She put her face in her arms. She confused and freaked out and her head was spinning in three or four different directions. Every time she thought about it, her migraine got a little worse. Still, that's where her thoughts kept wondering, and she always inevitably wound up on one particular thought: the thing that really had her baffled, the one detail that frightened her…

"Hey."

She froze for a second, then turned around slowly. "Hey."

Heiji was standing behind her, looking surprisingly uncertain. "Mind if I join you?" She shook her head, and he sat down beside her without another word. For a long moment, they were silent.

Finally, it was Heiji who spoke. "You okay?"

"Of course I'm not okay," she sighed. The question seemed to have broken a dam inside her, and everything just came rushing out at once. "I can't believe they'd do this to us—they didn't even talk to us about it! Why don't we have any say in this? Are they crazy?" On and on, the outpour continued.

She didn't even realize she was upset enough to start crying until Heiji put a hand on her shoulder and offered her a handkerchief. She accepted it gratefully and let those few tears seep out before she clamped down and reclaimed control over herself. When she looked up at him again, he was watching her with concerned eyes. For all that he was clueless, for all that he could be a royal jerk…sometimes he still managed to surprise her. Sometimes he really did just _know_.

"Better? Even a little bit?" he asked softly. He was being uncharacteristically quiet and unusually somber. Then again, this entire predicament involved him as well, and it had obviously hit him at least as hard as it had hit her.

"A little. It's just…ever since I was a little kid," she said, deciding to go ahead and open up, knowing that he wouldn't dare laugh at her now, "I always dreamed of my wedding day. I guess most little girls probably do—hoping it'll be like in movies and fairytales, where a knight in shining armor rides up and carries the princess away to live happily ever after." She sighed and chuckled sadly, shaking her head. "Pretty silly, huh?"

"Not really," he said with a shake of his head. She'd never told him this before.

"It scares me," she went on. "I mean, I'm not ready to get married yet! I can't even imagine trying to step into those kind of shoes yet—we're still in high school, both of us. We haven't even graduated yet. There are so many complications and things to worry about and…and…" Kazuha sighed and looked away. "But what really scares me…" she said softly, then hesitated.

After a few seconds, he prodded, "What?"

She took a deep breath. "It really scares me…that I guess I really don't mind the idea that much. The more I think about it, the more I realize that…I think I could live with it. Happily, even. Not right away, I mean, we're still in high school, we'd have to wait a while before actually…" She paused, then finished lamely, "I guess it doesn't bother me like I think it really should."

"…huh?" Heiji gaped. She was speaking Greek, he would swear on it.

She swallowed hard. "I wouldn't mind…" And she trailed off again as she wondered if she had said too much or done any irreparable damage. Her gaze dropped; she refused to look at him. "I mean, they had a point. We know each other, we've always been together, everyone already says we fight like a married couple…it'd just be kicking things up a notch…or five. Would it really be _that_ different? Well, aside from…yeah." She left _that_ particular thought hanging. She wasn't sure she was ready to face the thought of the more practical aspects of married life right at that moment.

Heiji stared at her. Watching her expression as she struggled to find the right words to convey what she was thinking and feeling at that moment…he couldn't do nothing. He silently reached out to her, and she responded immediately, fiercely, clinging to him for support and reassurance that maybe she wasn't _completely_ crazy.

"What do you think?" she asked after a moment.

He ran over everything in his mind, and sighed. "I don't know. I just…I don't know." It was strange to see the great Detective of the West at such a loss. Then again, there was an enormous difference between matters of the law and matters of the heart. He was more accustomed to dealing with dead bodies than…never mind.

"Could you live with me?" she asked quietly. "For the rest of your life?" Somehow, she was afraid of the answer she might get, but she had to ask the question. Even if she was all right with this, marriage wasn't exactly a solo sport. If he was unhappy with this idea, then that was that. She'd probably already said too much…

He really thought about it, good and hard. "I…hmm…well…"

She waited, squirming slightly.

"Dammit, Kazuha, I don't know!" he said, voice rising. One hand jumped to his forehead, fingers running nervously through his bangs. "I mean…I don't know if it would really be that different or what, and everyone already says we argue like a married couple, but…what do you want?"

That really was the dangerous question: _What do you want?_

Kazuha looked down, and he saw her set her jaw before she raised her head again. He knew that particular Look. That was the Kazuha Look of Determination. There was something she wanted to do, and she had made up her mind to do it, whatever it was, whatever the consequences. That was Kazuha, though. Strong, driven…and so pretty when she was angry.

However, he wasn't _quite_ prepared for her to look up at him—look him straight in the eye—and ask a single question that pretty much dropped his world out from under him for what, the fifth time that day? He'd really lost count.

"Heiji…will you marry me?"

He gaped at her for a minute. Who knew that those five little words could jolt his already-shaky mindset as badly as they did? But he mulled over it in his mind, going over all the possibilities and facts and options and questions—just like a detective, analytical and practical. But that only ran so far; soon, something else was jumping into the mix and putting its two cents in.

His heart was finally demanding to be heard, where he had always ignored it before.

Kazuha fidgeted anxiously. "You can say no, and we'll tell them we refuse. It's not a big deal—"

"Yes."

Her jaw dropped. "W-what?"

Heiji's eyes opened slowly and met hers; he was completely serious. "I said yes."

Kazuha didn't realize that she'd lunged at him until she felt the impact of them both hitting the wooden floorboards. Heiji let out a squawk as they tumbled backwards, her arms around his torso while his arms instinctively moved to embrace her while they fell. Strangely enough, though, neither felt the immediate need to move; it was strangely comfortable to just sprawl out next to each other and just breathe.

"Question," Heiji asked after a moment.

"Hmm?"

"You agreed to that _awfully_ fast. Something you want to tell me?"

Kazuha felt herself blush. "Not at the moment."

"…later?"

"Maybe. If you behave."

Heiji chuckled. When he spoke again, she could actually hear him grinning. "At some point we're going to have to tell our parents we agree to this. But…" he looked down at her, "is anyone else up for figuring out some way to get back at them?"

"I'm with you on that!" she nodded with a laugh. "And I'll let you know when I have an idea!"

They stayed out there like that for a while longer, Kazuha curled against Heiji's side, Heiji's arm wrapped loosely around Kazuha's shoulders. Neither spoke much, as both thought towards a future that was now definitely intertwined.

"Heiji?"

"Hmm?"

"You sure about this?"

"Definitely."

* * *

**PS. **_Okay, before anybody tries to cause me bodily harm over this, here is my rationale. First of all, it is my understanding that arranged marriages are not totally uncommon in Japan; it's even used in the Conan manga, between Satou and Shiratori (shudder). And Heiji's family is fairly traditional, so I don't think it's that unrealistic. And most importantly, check out manga volume 31, file 11. The fathers are actually discussing the idea. No real word on whether or not they were kidding, but it was mentioned—poor Kazuha, "asleep" in the backseat of the car during this conversation, is absolutely bewildered (laugh)_

_This Hug is dedicated to **fireblazie**. Because she's cool like that, and because she really is the queen of Heiji and Kazuha fanfics (bows down). And while I was talking to my friend Kelly about the idea, we ended up with the following scene…

* * *

_

Heiji swallowed hard.

Kazuha stared.

And they both looked everywhere, except at each other.

"Sooooooo…" Kazuha said slowly. "It's late."

"Yup," Heiji replied noncommittally.

"…well, there's the bed."

"Yup."

"…yup."

Heiji cleared his throat. "It's after dark…"

"Yeah, I noticed." A pause before Kazuha went on. "Only one bed."

"Yup."

"Yup."

"…which side do you want?" Heiji said after another pause.

"Whichever one you don't take is fine!" Kazuha replied a bit too quickly.

Crickets chirped. So Heiji closed the window, and then they couldn't hear them anymore.

Then he returned to his previous pose of standing beside his _very_ blushing bride at the foot of what was theoretically supposed to be their marriage bed, and staring at the aforementioned bed in absolute terror. After all, they were expected—at some point, anyway—to indulge in one of the more, ah, _practical_ aspects of married life. And Heiji's mother wanted grandchildren, dammit!

There was a long moment of silence before they both simultaneously turned to each other and barked a single phrase. "I have a headache!" The crickets chirped again, quite loudly.

And the staring resumed. Finally, Kazuha sighed. "So are we going to do it or not?"


	11. A Thousand Words

**Title:** A Thousand Words  
**Fandom:** Detective Conan  
**Theme: **#28—dust  
**Pairing:** Hattori Heiji/Toyama Kazuha  
**Rating:** PG  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Detective Conan or any related characters. They belong to Gosho Aoyama. I simply throw fruit at them, take pictures, and call it modern art. Critics love me.  
**Summary:** The ultimatum was simple. Clean out the attic…or die. Until they found something...

* * *

Their father's ultimatum had been very simple. Clean up the attic a bit…or die. 

It was for this reason that twelve-year-old Yukari and her younger sister Tomoe found themselves up in the dusty old attic, attacking the dust with brooms and rags. They didn't have to go through anything, but simply get rid of the grime.

This may or may not have had something to do with the fact that they'd heard their mother telling their father that she wanted the attic cleaned out. Naturally, part of the task was passed down to the kids. After all, wasn't that why some people had kids?

Things were going along uneventfully until nine-year-old Tomoe tripped over a box and wound up splayed on the floor. She was unharmed, but the same couldn't be said for the box she'd stepped on; the cardboard had torn clean apart, spilling some of the box's contents out on the floor.

Yukari came to her sibling's side and they began to gather up the mess…and then realized that what they'd found seemed to be some old pictures. Taken by the natural curiosity of children, they began to actually look at the photographs, rather than simply sticking them back in the box.

One picture in particular caught their attention. Unlike many of the others, which were your average event shots, scenery, and smiling people, this one featured two children—a boy and a girl—who seemed to be engaged in a screaming argument. They were both bright-eyed and red-faced, their mouths wide open as they apparently yelled at each other.

A glance at the back of the dusty picture revealed one name—their fathers. But a drop of water or something had apparently hit the second name, blurring it beyond legibility. This left them with the mystery of who Dad was arguing with in the picture. It was a mystery, like the one's Dad always solved.

Fortunately, they figured that this mystery would have an easy solution.

Clutching the pictures carefully in grubby little hands, the two girls headed down the stairs. They found their father in the kitchen, sitting at the table with his newspaper wide open in his hands. "Dad! Dad!" Yukari grabbed her father's arm and gave it a shake to make certain she had his attention.

He lowered his paper and smiled indulgently at his daughters. "What's up?"

"We found this in the attic!" Yukari thrust the photograph at her father. "I know it's you, but who's the girl? And what are you fighting about?"

He took the photo and looked at it carefully. "Wow…I haven't seen this in years…this is me, actually, when I was around your ages. And that girl was someone I've known for a very long time."

"Tell us! Tell us!" Tomoe pleaded.

"Have you two finished the attic?"

"We'll do it after the story! Break time! Tell us now!" Yukari said firmly. They even sat down, just to drive home that they weren't leaving until they'd heard the story about this mysterious picture.

Heaving a mock-sigh, he caved. "All right, all right. The girl in the picture was a girl I went to school with. We'd known each other since we were little—we used to argue all the time."

"What did you argue about?" Yukari asked.

"Anything and everything—we almost had a talent for coming up with ways to fight about the most pointless things. We were always calling each other names and picking on each other. I think we even got into a few physical fights!"

"You hit a girl?" Yukari gaped.

"Just once—and I got in big trouble for it," he whispered. "Didn't do that again. So we usually kept it to more verbal arguments. Lots of yelling and screaming and name-calling. And don't tell anyone, but I _always_won." He winked, the girls giggled."That's what this picture is, actually. Your grandmother took this—that's her handwriting on the back—during one of our fights. She thought it was amusing."

"It sounds like you two hated each other!" Tomoe commented with wide green eyes.

He shook his head. "Hate is a very strong word, Tomo-chan. We just had some differences."

"Do you still know that girl?" Yukari asked.

"I actually do still talk to her," he admitted. "We talk regularly. And we still argue a lot."

"Dad, you have a girlfriend!" Yukari yelped.

He grinned. "Well, not exactly."

Their elder daughter looked properly scandalized. "Does Mom know?"

"As a matter of fact, she does. Now I think you two should go finish your job and go clean up. You're a mess!" He reached over and ruffled his younger daughter's hair affectionately, creating a small dust-cloud in the middle of the kitchen. "Err…don't tell your mother about the mess I just made, all right?"

Giggling and chattering about the story, they headed back towards their assigned task.

Heiji smiled as he watched the two children skip out of the room before turning back to his paper. A moment later, he heard soft footsteps padding up behind him; arms slid around his neck in a loose hug. "What was that all about?" Kazuha asked gently, leaning her cheek against his temple.

He reached out and picked up the picture and showed it to her; she took it with one hand for closer examination. "Nothing, really. I was just telling the girls about this old picture."

Kazuha chuckled and gave him a squeeze. "What did you tell them?"

"Oh, they wanted to know who the girl in the picture was, and I told them how she and I always used to fight and argue and such when we were kids, and how I always won," he said cheerily. "I even told them how it went on through our high school years. But I didn't tell them her name."

"So I'm guessing that you also didn't tell them that you married her."

"Of course not," he said. "Gotta save something to traumatize them with when they're older."

"A picture really is worth a thousand words, isn't it?" Kazuha observed.

"Yeah—and I think you were yelling all of them at me in that." He pointed at the picture as he made the jibe, and accepted the light smack on the head he received as punishment, courtesy of his wife.

* * *

**PS.** _Ah, randomness._ _Was originally going to go in a completely different direction, but I thought this was a little bit cuter. I like the idea. Thanks for reading, everyone. Much love!_


	12. Breaking Apart

**Title:** Breaking Apart  
**Fandom:** Detective Conan  
**Theme: **#20—broken dreams  
**Pairing:** Hattori Heiji/Toyama Kazuha  
**Rating:** PG  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Detective Conan or any related characters. They belong to Gosho Aoyama. I simply throw fruit at them, take pictures, and call it modern art. Critics love me.  
**Summary:** The flowers fell from her hands, petals scattering everywhere.

* * *

It was sunny, such a beautiful day with a nice cool wind blowing.

Kazuha's school satchel swung by her side in time to the steady rhythm of her steps. She'd rushed out of there the instant the final bell had sounded, and come straight here from school, making a single stop along the way to pick something up.

She passed through the open gate, slowing her pace only slightly. Then she squared her shoulders and continued marching towards her ultimate destination. Finally, she saw him, and again her steps slowed. No turning back now, though. She approached him and stood silently for a moment. He didn't say anything—how unusual, she reflected wryly, for the Man with the Permanently Open Mouth.

Still, it couldn't be helped now, could it. Instead, she just started to talk to him. It was nothing particularly in-depth or interesting; she simply told him the events of the last few days, things happening at school, an amusing anecdote about something her father had done that morning. Random chatter, but still, at least she was talking to him now.

Sort of.

The sun had moved a fair distance across the sky when she finally ran out of things to say and to tell him. It really was time for her to be getting home. Still, she lingered in the silence for a moment longer, her fingers tightening around the flower stems in her hands. It felt morbid, but this really was the place where she felt closest to Heiji, where she could talk to him without anyone else hearing.

It was a lonely sort of togetherness…but it was something.

She did not bend to lay the flowers at his grave. Instead, she hugged them against her chest before she simply released them. The blossoms tumbled from her hands, almost in slow motions. Their petals scattered everywhere, like the tiny pieces of broken dreams and a broken heart. Everything was breaking apart, just like those flowers. It was so senseless, so pointless…

For a moment, she watched the wind carry some of the petals off, while other petals got stuck in the ground and were left to wave futilely in the breeze. Some flew away, while others remained behind.

It was painfully familiar.

There was something she'd held so close to her chest, something she'd been trying to bring herself to say even to the marker that bore his name carved into its stone.

"Goodbye, Heiji," she said softly. "I loved you."

It really was so stupid to admit it now—he probably couldn't hear her from wherever he was. And even if he could hear her, there was no reason to think that he was actually listening. He never had before, why should he start now? The thought almost made her smile; in death, she still found herself thinking of him as the same ahou he'd always been in life.

No, no, no…he was gone now. She couldn't quite bring herself to think of him as an angel, though. This was Heiji—yes, she believed he was in a better place (contrary to her many speculations about his less-than-desirable destination after death), but the whole "wings and halo" idea just didn't fit him.

It really was time to go now. She had to get home, no matter how much she wanted to stay just a few more minutes. She'd been giving herself 'a few more minutes' for nearly an hour now. But she would come again, another day for another visit and another one-sided conversation that he might or might not even be listening to.

Kazuha smiled softly, sadly. "I love you, ahou. See you when I see you."

As she turned to leave, she found herself facing into the wind that had been blowing all day…and she could have sworn that it actually pulled her ponytail.

_Hard._

Instinctively, she clapped a hand to her head and glared at…well, at the empty air around her, more than anything. "Still a pain in the ass," she muttered halfheartedly, smoothing her hair. Still, she was smiling again. "Ahou. Quit teasing me."

There was another tug on her hair that she knew didn't have anything to do with the wind…

And then it was gone.

**OMAKE**

_First Day in Heaven_

As if it wasn't enough of a shock to wake up and find himself dead, Heiji was now having the fight of his afterlife. He didn't care what anyone said—there was no way in hell (or heaven, as the case may be) that he was wearing that stupid halo.

Still, the wings were kind of cool, he had to admit. He could fly!

Well…after a couple of attempts, anyway. Lucky Kazuha wasn't here (for several reasons, actually—if she was here too, that would mean she was dead, and that was not a good idea), or she would have been laughing her ass off at the Heiji-shaped impressions left on the clouds.

But judging by the way his tour guide (or whatever that other angel was there for) reacted in a classic facepalm, Heiji concluded that he was the first person to ever ask if the wings only came in white—did they have anything in green?

* * *

**PS.** _Man, I'm over a third of the way into this challenge, and I hadn't killed anyone off yet. What the hell is wrong with me? And why do I always kill Heiji? Ah well, can't be helped. I'm just a sadistic little fangirl, I s'pose :) The thing about this one was that it kept trying to veer off into a very wry humor, and finally I just said "Okay! Omake the green wings joke and let it be!" Just a short little plunnie for ya. Thanks for reading, all. Hope you enjoyed it! Much love!_

_BTW, **SoulSeeker**? This one's for you, hon ;) _


	13. Bathrooms Gone Bad

**Title:** Bathrooms Gone Bad  
**Fandom:** Detective Conan  
**Theme: **#17—orange; color  
**Pairing:** Hattori Heiji/Toyama Kazuha  
**Rating:** PG  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Detective Conan or any related characters. They belong to Gosho Aoyama. I simply throw fruit at them, take pictures, and call it modern art. Critics love me.  
**Summary:** When bathrooms attack, things get ugly. And wet.

* * *

When Kazuha answered the door, Heiji immediately knew that she was in a bad mood. And something instantly told him that it had nothing to do with the early hour.

Now, he wasn't always the most observant when it came to his best friend, but he was a detective, and he quickly figured that her sour mood might have had something to do with the fact that her jeans were soaked halfway up to the knees.

Taking a risk, he dared to ask, "What happened?"

She scowled. "Follow me. I'll show you."

He obediently trailed up the stairs after her to the bathroom. She opened the door, and Heiji found himself standing in the middle of the mighty Nile River. The extremely _cold_ Nile River…streaming from the Toyama bathroom. Now his jeans were soaked to match Kazuha's.

He looked down at the water, then at his best friend. "I repeat. What happened?"

"I have no idea. I got up this morning and got dressed and went in there to brush my teeth and I'm knee-deep in cold water," she huffed, crossing her arms in a full-blown pout. "And Dad's not home, so it looks like I'm on my own to get it cleaned up." She paused, and shot him a hopeful look. "…unless you maybe want to help, pretty please?"

Heiji momentarily thought about turning and walking out—just to spite her—but she did look awfully pitiful, and there was a lot of water…and the level of it seemed to be rising steadily, he noticed as the numbness (that water was hella cold!) was creeping closer to his knees. He sighed at how easy he was, and nodded. "Yeah, that's way too much for one person to do."

Her smile was enough to brighten up the room…and Heiji felt his face turning bright red in response. He cleared his throat quickly and turned his attention back to the matter at hand. "S-so, what do we think the problem is exactly?"

Kazuha took it upon herself to wade into the bathroom itself in search of the cause of the Great Flood. It didn't take her long to pinpoint the bathtub as the most likely culprit, as it was filled to the brim and overflowing down the sides. Frowning, she leaned in for a closer examination; she could hear water sloshing as Heiji moved in a little closer behind her.

She reached down into the tub and pulled out the shower head. It was one of those ones on a hose, and not only had it apparently fallen into the bathtub, but it seemed to be broken, as it was released a steady, decent-sized trickle of cold water. That explained where the deluge had come from. And whoever had been in there last had forgotten to unblock the drain in the tub.

She made an angry mental note to scold her father as soon as he got home from running his errands. And maybe make him eat his own cooking to ensure that this never happened again. But first things first—stopping the water.

She reached over and started fiddling with the knobs in an attempt to find the correct combination that would shut it off. "What in the world is wrong with this thi—ACK!" Apparently, she had done something wrong, as a sizable spray of ice-water hit her squarely in the face, drenching her pretty well.

Kazuha let out a shriek and several colorful, creative curses as she fumbled with the shower nozzle to try and end the geyser of frigid water. By some miracle, she managed to turn it the right way, and the water dribbled down to mere bubbles. She coughed and sputtered and shoved wet bangs out of her face before turning back to Heiji. "Could you hand me a towel?"

Heiji didn't respond. In fact, he seemed to be rather fixated on something.

It took Kazuha far longer than it should have to figure out what he was looking at. In the end, she simply followed his eyes down, down, down…oh CRAP! With a little shriek, she wrapped her arms around her upper torso and took an instinctive step backwards…

…causing her knees to bump into the bathtub's edge, just enough to push her off-balance and send her flying backwards into the overflowing tub. By some miracle, she managed to avoid hitting her head on the tub, but she still resurfaced with flailing arms and lots of spluttering.

Hands caught her waving ones and pulled, dragging her upwards out of the water. She was now soaked from head to toe; her hair was plastered to her face and neck, the orange ribbon in her hair was hanging lifelessly against her head, her light blue jeans were now a dark cerulean color and sticking uncomfortably to her, and Heiji was again staring at her shirt…which had once been white, but was now colorless and relatively transparent. And very, very clingy.

Kazuha again wrapped her arms around her chest to protect certain areas from his enraptured gaze. "Stop looking, dammit!" Truth be told, his scrutiny wasn't quite as embarrassing as she thought it maybe should have been, but she vowed to put up a good fight nonetheless.

To his credit, Heiji was blatantly honest. "I can't help it! It's there!"

She moved past him, sloshing through the knee-deep water back out into the hallway; the carpet out there was soaked, but at least she wasn't standing directly in the numbing water anymore. "Heiji, it's just a bra. Nothing major!"

"If it's nothing major, then why are you freaking out that I'm seeing it?" he asked, following her out of the bathroom.

Kazuha opened her mouth…and closed it. He had a point, but she wasn't going to admit that. Instead she just turned on her heel with the intent of hightailing it to her room and changing into something that was neither white nor soaked…and slipped on the wet floor, going backwards. She crashed into Heiji, whose arms instinctively wrapped around her to catch her.

Unfortunately, the force of impact was hard enough that he wasn't totally prepared for it, couldn't quite brace himself for it, and as a result, they tumbled together backwards through the open door into the water, Heiji landing flat on his back and Kazuha landing on her back on top of him.

Heiji instantly sat up, his arms still around her waist; she found herself being forced to sit up with him. They sat there together, his chest against her back, coughing and sputtering and trying to wipe the water out of their eyes. And now they were both drenched from head to toe.

Kazuha stood up first and lurched out of the bathroom and away from the flood. But she did have the grace to at least turn and offer Heiji a hand up…also allowing him a perfectly unhindered view of her soaked shirt and the white undergarment beneath it. Still, he accepted the hand without a word about it.

When he was on his feet as well, she smirked. "Turnabout is fair play." It was then that Heiji realized that his own white shirt was now colorless and see-through, and blushed appropriately.

Footsteps on the stairs made them both turn, and a moment later, Kazuha's father appeared at the top of the stairs. He took in the scene quickly—flooded bathroom, soaked teenagers, and everything else—and replied in the true parental fashion. "What the hell is going on here?"

Kazuha wrapped her arms around herself again. "This is _your_ fault."

Heiji nodded, and both glared at the bewildered father, who had no idea what was going on. But fortunately, his beloved daughter was more than willing to let him know _exactly_ what was happening, and what he could do to remedy it.

Quickly.

* * *

**PS.** _Fyliwion.__Jeva. I BLAME YOU FOR THIS! It's all your fault, you hear me? BOTH OF YOU!_

_I did use a similar premise for a Hayate/Himeno Kisses fic and forgot about it. But then I went back to NIACC, and the toilet EFFIN' SPIT ON ME AGAIN! I've also seen bathroom flooding in the dorms when some residents decided they needed an indoor Slip-n-Slide. And then someone suggested a wet T-shirt fic (coughJEVAFYLIWIONcough) and it had to be done. Poor Kazuha._

_Anyway, thanks for reading, all. Much love!_


	14. Cold as Snow

**Title:** Cold as Snow  
**Fandom:** Detective Conan  
**Theme: **#11—ice  
**Pairing:** Hattori Heiji/Toyama Kazuha  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Detective Conan or any related characters. They belong to Gosho Aoyama. I simply throw fruit at them, take pictures, and call it modern art. Critics love me.  
**Summary:** Once upon a time, there was a boy…

* * *

Once upon a time, there was a boy. His name was Heiji.

Heiji had a best friend, a girl named Kazuha. They had been together for as long as either of them could remember, since childhood. No one (save for the two themselves) had any doubts as to their future; they would always be together, people said. It will be official someday. But for right now, they added, we have the entertainment value of watching them argue and 'ahou' each other six or seven times a day.

At least.

Heiji and Kazuha ignored the rumors and the teasing and went about their business. Their business generally was arguing with each other, or her trailing along while he went on cases and then yelling at him afterwards for any number of reasons. It was strange to those on the outside looking in, but it was their ritual, and both seemed content with it.

Until one day, after a particularly bad case; the two of them had been out and about, enjoying the nice weather when the body had been found. He'd solved it, as usual, but instead of the criminal confessing and giving up quietly, the murderer went ballistic and charged with knife in hand. Fortunately, the police were on hand and were able to diffuse what could have been a truly heinous situation; he was able to walk away with only a minor injury.

When he'd seen her after that, he had expected the usual chewing out, followed by a nice, relaxing screaming session. Instead, she'd stormed up to him and hugged him and whispered that if he ever got it into his thick head to go and die on her, she would kill him herself. He dared not contradict her.

It was a strange moment…but not necessarily unwelcome.

Time continued to pass, as it does. And before long, it was winter.

Heiji woke up one cold morning with a strange feeling. It wasn't an emotion so much as an instinct, something primal and uncharted buried deep down in his very core. He sat in bed for several minutes, staring at the window at the falling snow and trying to puzzle out what it was and what it meant. He was a detective, after all, and it was a mystery. But in the end, he could only draw one conclusion.

Whatever it was, it had to do with Kazuha.

And it wasn't good.

He got up and went downstairs…and found that there were people waiting for him. Grave, solemn-faced people. He knew them from the precinct where his father worked. His father was there as well, and Toyama-keiji, Kazuha's father.

His father's hand on his shoulder. His father's voice, unusually quiet. _Son, we need to talk._

Outside, the world was a shimmering white.

_**-o-**_

It was a full-fledged blizzard: cold, icy, windy, freezing.

Yet the small group stood together, huddled together against the frigid air. They gathered to pay their respects and mourn over one lost far too soon. A twist of fate, a case of being in the wrong place at just the wrong moment…and she was gone.

The graveside service itself was short; it was too cold to do otherwise. And then everyone else left, one by one, heading for a warmer location; even her own father was finally driven away by the chill and the snow, though he held on longer than most.

But Heiji remained at his best friend's grave long after everyone else had taken their leave, as still and solemn as any ice sculpture, paying no heed to the cold of winter's hand. The wind continued to tear at his face, reddening it, numbing him through to the core. He welcomed it, for it just finished what had started the moment he'd gotten the news.

He had always been a warm person, fiery and passionate about all that was important to him. Then someone had taken his best friend from him, leaving him to belatedly realize _exactly_ how important she was to him. That he loved her.

The warmth had been encased in snow, and the fire had frozen within him. It had started with his father's uncharacteristically solemn words (_Son,_ he said, _we need to talk…_) and was completed now, aided by winter itself.

Several minutes passed before someone came to get him. In his numb, frozen state, he barely even recognized his father, barely heard him speaking. He allowed himself to be led away into a nearby building. Still, he had to be taken to a chair and directly told to sit down. He didn't even pause to remove his wet, snow-covered coat or dry his damp shoes. Instead, he simply sat and watched everyone milling around, talking in muted voices.

It was warm in there, but Heiji was still as cold as snow. One would think he would thaw out by now, but if anything he felt like the chill was growing stronger and digging deeper into him. He was sinking into ice…ice was what had killed her, after all, upon its meeting with the wheels of a speeding car. It seemed only fitting that he should drown in it himself, cold and harsh and unfeeling.

His mind kept drifting back to that moment, when she had hugged him and told him that he wasn't allowed to die. What a hypocrite…what a goddamn tragedy…he tried to relive it, the way her hands had felt, grazing over his shoulders to reach around his neck, her arms pressed against his, her warm weight resting against his as she whispered her impossible threat into his ear…

He remember the sensations, but he couldn't relive them.

It was gone.

Once upon a time, there was a boy. His name was Heiji. He loved his best friend, a girl named Kazuha. But he didn't realize it until she was suddenly gone, and had taken so much of him with her. All that remained was an unbreakable shell of ice.

* * *

**PS.** _I'm finally fixing this problem I have, where I tend to, umm…well, kill Heiji off and leave Kazuha behind. So time to reverse roles! This is a bit different than my usual style, I think, but I do like writing stories in this kind of style once in a while, just because. Cue a _Make Angst, Not War _flag :) This is also a little welcome home present for **SoulSeeker**, who is home from Thailand. YAY!_

_Thanks for reading, all—can you believe that the next one will be the halfway point? WHEE! I really like the one I'm working on for the fifteenth Hug, too. So I hope you'll stick around for it. Thanks again. Much love, everyone!_


	15. Sakura

**Title:** Sakura  
**Fandom:** Detective Conan  
**Theme: **#14—somei yoshino; a type of sakura (cherry blossom)  
**Pairing:** Hattori Heiji/Toyama Kazuha  
**Rating:** PG  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Detective Conan or any related characters. They belong to Gosho Aoyama. I simply throw fruit at them, take pictures, and call it modern art. Critics love me.  
**Summary:** They were reliving a moment from the past.

**---**

Once upon a time (as all great stories begin), there was a boy. One day, while visiting a temple in Kyoto, he looked out the window and saw a girl standing beneath one of the sakura trees outside. She wore a kimono and pigtails, and was singing a song while she played with a ball. The pink-white blossoms floated around her like falling snow.

Young as he was, he found himself unable to look away from the sight. He just watched through the broken window slats as she bounced her ball, one hand holding her kimono sleeve out of the way; he listened as she sang to herself.

The wind picked up, and he closed his eyes against it. When he opened them again, she was gone. He rushed outside to find her, but she had gotten away—vanished into thin air, or so it seemed. The cherry blossoms continued to ride on the wind around him and be effortlessly carried away, but the impression left on him by the anonymous girl refused to be brushed aside so easily…

It would be years before he learned who she actually was…and yet he would not tell her.

_**-o-**_

_Tap._

Kazuha didn't hear it the first time.

_Tap._

That time she heard it, but she didn't know where it was coming from. She glanced around in search of the elusive sound, but found nothing. Shrugging to herself, she turned back to her desk and the unfinished homework still sitting there.

_TAP!_

Okay, that one was louder and impossible to miss. This time, Kazuha turned around and studied her room for a possible source of the odd noise. As her eyes were passing the window, though, she saw something fly up and hit it.

_Tap._

Aha! So that was it.

She spun her desk chair around and glided to her feet to cross the room. She opened the window…and promptly got hit in the head with the next rock to be lofted at her window. Fortunately, it wasn't a large rock, but that didn't necessarily mean that it wasn't painful. Kazuha recoiled with her hands clasped to her forehead over the stinging area.

"Whoops!" a voice cheered from below.

Gritting her teeth, Kazuha leaned out the window—still holding her head in one hand—and angrily screamed down, "Hattori Heiji, you ahou! Are you trying to kill me? IDIOT!"

Rather than get mad in return, Heiji's smile never faltered—and that threw her a bit, actually. Was something going on that she wasn't aware of? "Sorry! I was just trying to get your attention! Can you come down for a while?"

…he was apologizing? Of his own free will? Without her having to scream and cry and guilt-trip him into it? Yes, something was definitely wrong with this picture. She couldn't help but be curious about it. And he was asking her if she had some free time…well, no time like the present to find out! Besides, hanging out with Heiji was a lot more interesting than homework. "Sure! Gimme a minute, I'll be right down!" As she withdrew from the window and closed it, she realized that she'd let the rock to the head issue drop far too easily…

Meh, she'd keep it as leverage for later if need be. And he _had_ apologized…

Shaking her head to clear those thoughts, she quickly set about making herself as presentable as possible on such short notice. Still, she was on her way down the stairs in under three minutes, pausing at the door only long enough to slip her shoes on before sprinting out the door.

Heiji was waiting on the sidewalk. He didn't look any different then normal—jeans, a green T-shirt, dark gray jacket, and his trademark cap—but something seemed a little different…still, she brushed the notion aside as silly and jogged to meet him.

"What's going on?" she asked.

He didn't reply to her question, per se. Instead, he did something completely out of character for him: he grabbed her hand and started pulling her down the sidewalk. "Come on, let's go!"

"Heiji?" she blurted as they began walking. "Heiji, where are we going? Heiji!"

"We're going to go have fun!" he replied, with all the enthusiasm of a child at an amusement park.

Kazuha sprinted a few steps to walk beside him, rather than trailing along after him like a dog on a leash. It was much more comfortable that way, even though he wouldn't say outright where they were going or what they were doing.

And even when she caught up, Heiji didn't let go of her hand.

_**-o-**_

"Heiji?"

"Yeah?"

"…thanks. For today, I mean," Kazuha said; she suddenly felt very shy, and felt herself blush. Thank goodness it was dark out now; it meant that he probably couldn't see it. It didn't help matters any that their fingers were still loosely tangled between them.

When he answered, she could hear him grinning. "Anytime."

From the rock-throwing at her window (and her subsequent head injury), they'd been all over the place: a local amusement park, lunch, a movie, shopping (he had let her drag him along for a couple of hours without too much fuss), dinner, and an evening stroll. It had been quite a day.

And the most amazing thing? They'd barely argued at all. Granted, that was generally their method of communication, odd as it seemed, but still…sometimes it was nice to be able to just spend time in each other's presence without getting sore throats. That was what today had been.

It was almost magic. Almost…romantic?

But as her house drew near, Kazuha really that she was still confused. Why had he done all this? It wasn't totally unheard of for him to be thoughtful now and then, but this was unlike anything she'd ever seen from him before. She couldn't decide if it unnerved her…or if it was a dream come true.

She turned to look up at him to ask about it…and faltered at his expression, only visible as they passed by the circular glow of a streetlamp; she wouldn't have seen it otherwise.

Heiji looked…unhappy. His eyes had grown distant and downcast, his expression thoughtful. Even his shoulders had slumped forward a little bit. He seemed sad and lost, off in his own thoughts—a stark contrast to the laughter and smiles of a mere moment ago.

Kazuha was immediately concerned. "Heiji?"

He jumped and looked at her, smile firmly back in place. "What's up?"

She had to ask. "What's wrong? You looked so sad all of a sudden."

"Nah, I'm all right," he waved it off, reaching over with one hand to tug on the end of her ponytail. "Ahou, you worry too much."

Instinctively, Kazuha clapped a hand to her hair and glared at him. But the harsh look soon faded into thoughtfulness and curiosity. "Heiji…why did you take me out like this today?" It had been a truly wonderful day, but now she couldn't help but wonder if there was something behind it.

He shrugged noncommittally. "Does a guy need a reason to hang out with a friend?"

"No," she shook her head. "But…you just—"

"We're here."

She realized belatedly that they were already at her front door.

He let go of her hand—she didn't want him to, but he did. "Guess this is goodnight, huh?"

"Guess so. Heiji, thank you for today. I had a blast," Kazuha beamed in spite of the fact that she once again felt so shy. What was it about his presence that was doing that to her? "See you tomorrow?"

She didn't miss (nor did she fully comprehend) that his expression wavered ever so slightly before he replastered that smile on his face and nodded. "Yup. Tomorrow. Definitely." With another wave, he turned and headed on his way.

She watched him walk back down the sidewalk, hands stuffed into his pockets. And suddenly, she had a very strange feeling, an awful feeling…like her world was about to drop out from under her. That something important was going to change, and not for the better.

Still, she tried to shake it off. No point in woolgathering over some silly feeling like that. She went back inside and headed for bed, still walking on air from everything that had happened that day.

The next morning, she woke up to the worst news imaginable.

Heiji hadn't come home the night before. Many of his things were missing from his room, but there was no clue as to where he'd gone, and no indication of why he left. He had just…vanished. Run away, or so it seemed.

And Kazuha understood why he'd gone to so much trouble to spend that day with her and make it a good time. She could grasp why he had looked so sad when he'd dropped her off on her doorstep again. She had said goodbye that night, thinking she would see him again soon.

He had said goodbye without knowing if he would ever see her again.

Days passed into weeks. Weeks faded into months.

They heard nothing.

_**-o-**_

When she checked the mailbox one day after school, as she did almost every day, she was surprised to find an envelope in there with her name on the front. No return address, no mailing address—just her name in a handwriting that was all too familiar.

_Please let it be…_ she eagerly tore into the envelope, barely daring to hope that something was finally surfacing after so much time had passed. It had been months since that last day with Heiji, and she still could remember it all so clearly. She'd cried far too much in the past months, but she couldn't stop herself…she missed him.

He hadn't even contacted his family. They were worried sick, she knew. She and his mother had spent a great deal of quality time together in the weeks since his disappearance. The conversations usually started off as innocuous, about some simple topic. But more often than not, they found themselves drifting to discuss the missing young man who really was the direct link between them.

There had been too many tears at those moments, most of them her own. It was embarrassing, but at the same time, there was a strange comfort in crying on Shizuka's shoulder. The older woman seemed to understand a great deal. After all, they were the two women who knew and loved Heiji most, albeit in different ways: one as a mother, the other as…

Well, she wasn't one hundred percent sure what as. She wasn't ready to face that just yet.

The torn envelope dropped to the ground at her feet, and she ignored it in favor of the message it had contained. A white note card, simple and plain, with black writing on it in that same handwriting. The message was clear and made her heart skip a beat or five.

_Meet me at the temple at Sannouzi in Kyoto tomorrow at two. I'll be there. – Heiji._

_**-o-**_

She hadn't been to Kyoto since the case with the missing Buddha statues and the Genzihotaru, and it had been ages since she'd been to this specific temple. But it wasn't too difficult to find it, and Kazuha all but sprinted through the temple gates, frantically looking around for any sign of her lost friend.

Nothing. There was no one there.

Her expression fell. But she quickly reminded herself that it wasn't quite two yet. She was early. With nothing left to do except wait, she began wandering the grounds aimlessly, searching for any hint that her trip here hadn't been in vain.

She paused beneath the sakura tree, though, and looked up at it for a moment. The pink-white petals were falling like snow, carried on the gentle breeze to swirl and sweep around her. Kazuha closed her eyes for a moment and sighed, just letting it all wash over her.

She was so lost in the moment that she failed to notice someone standing nearby, watching her. The spectator was silent for a minute before speaking up. "If you keep walking around with your eyes closed, you're going to crash, ahou."

She whipped around, her eyes flying open, and stared at the speaker, who was moving towards her with slow, even steps. Hands in pockets. Cap on his head. Just as she remembered him, except… "…Heiji?" The face. He looked older—something had changed, something far beyond the physical.

He didn't reply right away. She tilted her head to the side and looked at him skeptically. But her expression turned to surprise when he suddenly leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug. It didn't last long, and he released her again.

Kazuha gazed at him, now with confusion written across her features; she was completely unaware that they were reliving a moment from their past. "Heiji, are you okay?" She realized that her cheeks had flushed pinker than the sakura blossoms floating around them. Things really hadn't changed that much since that day when he'd been throwing rocks at her window from the sidewalk. They had simply grown up along the line.

Heiji reached up and pulled a flower from where it had gotten stuck in her hair. He regarded it for a moment as it sat in the palm of his hand. Then he reached out and offered it to her, letting it slide into her open palm. "You look just like you did then."

"Just like I did—what are you talking about?" she asked softly.

He shook his head. "Nothing."

She hesitated for a moment…then threw her arms around him to initiate the hug, ignoring the fact that she had just crushed the blossom. This one was more desperate, needy. She clung to him with all the force of her own sadness and longing and just how much she had missed him over the past months. He simply held her while the first tremors of tears shook through her body.

"I missed you…" she whispered, mortified that she was crying. "I missed you so much…Heiji, you ahou…stupid, so stupid…" She pounded on his back with one fist, though she didn't put enough behind it to actually hurt him. Then she pulled back to look right up at him. "Where did you go? Are you coming home now? Please?"

"It's all over," he said with a smile.

"You're coming back?"

"That's the plan."

"…you know your parents are going to kill you, right?"

"I know. Don't care."

"You're impossible."

"Ahou."

"I missed you too, dummy."

It was so easy to fall back into their old routine of bickering and pecking at each other…except she was holding him with everything she could muster up and refusing to let go. And he was letting her.

When she finally released her hold on him, she leaned back enough to look up at him; it didn't bother her at all that his hands stayed at her waist. "Heiji…what happened to you?"

"Not telling," he said lightly, though something about the way he said it gave her a chill.

She sighed, and resolved to press the issue later. Instead, she asked the other question that was weighing on her mind right now. "Why did you want me to meet you here? Why not just come back to Osaka and come to my house or something?"

"Because," Heiji said, surprising her by reaching up to brush his fingers against her cheek in a feather-light touch, "this is where I can see you. Where you look just like you did then."

Kazuha didn't understand, and she didn't pretend to. She just leaned back, letting her hand run down his arm to find his, and they walked away from the temple with their fingers intertwined. Behind them, the sakura continued to fall.

**---**

**PS.** _This is all one big reference to Movie 7. I love that movie so very, very much. Cue the **Love Your Secondary Couple Day** flag! Anyhoo, we have finally reached the halfway point. Fifteen Hugs down, fifteen Hugs to go! YAY! Thanks for sticking with me thus far, and I sincerely hope that you will all hang around for the next fifteen. Cheers!_

_I offer this story up as a humble (if slightly belated) present to **fireblazie**, who has finished her 30 Kisses challenge for Heiji and Kazuha. Congratulations, hon! I hope you like your prezzie )_

_Thanks for reading, all. Much love!_


	16. Afterglow

**Title:** Afterglow  
**Fandom:** Detective Conan  
**Theme: **#7—tangled up  
**Pairing:** Hattori Heiji/Toyama Kazuha  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Detective Conan or any related characters. They belong to Gosho Aoyama. I simply throw fruit at them, take pictures, and call it modern art. Critics love me.  
**Summary:** She did look beautiful, tangled in white…

**---**

Heiji didn't know how it had happened. He really didn't.

One minute, he and Kazuha were arguing—an especially vicious one this time. He remembered saying something particularly insulting about her weight, and he remembered her screaming in fury and swinging a hand up to slap him right across the face. He remembered catching her wrist to stop the blow…

And then they were here.

…how cliché. How hilariously, horrendously cliché.

But that didn't change the fact that something had…well, changed. And it had changed quickly.

'Stunned' didn't quite begin to cover it. In fact, Heiji wasn't even sure that there was a word to adequately describe the look on Kazuha's face when she realized exactly what had happened; he was sure that his own expression was a match for hers: a mix of shock, disbelief, panic…_fear_…

What had they done?

For a moment, he had been honestly terrified that she would start to cry—if she had…he might have harmed himself. He already felt…he didn't even know how he felt—he felt guilty. Overjoyed. He was scum. He was elated. He was…dammit, this wasn't supposed to have happened…

But she'd simply stared at him. Her green eyes were wide and shining, almost luminous in the darkness; even in the dark, he could see that her face had gone as white as the moonlight itself. One hand clutched at the sheet, holding it protectively around herself. The silence was unbearably tense, punctuated only by nervous breathing and the faint rustle of the bedclothes.

It definitely wasn't the romantic afterglow of the movies or those novels she was so fond of…

Finally, he said something, the only thing he could think of, just something to dispel the awkward quiet that dangled between them. Her name might not have been the most amorous thing to say, but it was the only word he could manage to eke out.

Still, something broke, and she finally broke the commune of their gazes to turn away. One hand pressed to her mouth in disbelief, muffling her mantra of _Oh my God…oh my God…_

He just stared at her back—absently noticing the way her hair, freed from the confines of its usual ponytail, tumbled across the bare skin of her back trying to decide what to do. Should he try to help? Comfort? Maintain his distance? Apologize? Leave? If he did the wrong thing now…not that he hadn't already done the wrong thing a thousand times over tonight…it could break that which might already be damaged beyond repair.

In the end, he took the risk and reached out with a shaky hand to touch her shoulder.

She stiffened beneath that careful touch…and then leaned back against him, giving him silent permission to put his arms around her and hold her. His chest pressed against her back; his cheek rested against her shoulder. It wasn't so much of regret anymore, but more the shock that in one wild, free, irresponsible moment…they'd lost control to this extent.

Eventually, she'd turned around to face him again, still clutching at the protective covering of the bedsheets. There hadn't been much talk—neither really knew what to say. Finally, it was Kazuha who sighed…and suggested that they try to sleep. They could talk about it in the morning. When he'd seemed surprised, she said that she couldn't face it right now.

For a moment, Heiji had wondered if it was some kind of test. But she had waited expectantly until he'd hesitantly returned his head to the pillow, and then followed suit. Still, she lay an arm's length away from him—a small space that might well have been an ocean that neither dared to cross. They lay for a long time like that, on their sides, simply staring at each other.

It was Kazuha who lost the battle for consciousness first. Her eyes fluttered for a few minutes before finally falling shut. Her breathing slowed and evened into a faint, steady rhythm, proving that she was out. Heiji assumed this was a good sign—she apparently still trusted him enough to not only stay in his bed, but fall asleep with him there.

Besides, it gave him the chance to just look at her for a long, long moment.

…she really did look beautiful—sound asleep and tangled in white sheets…

What would happen tomorrow? Heiji had never really had to consider the possibility that he might someday lose her. It just wasn't something he'd thought about. Kazuha had always been there—he'd never had to question that she was there.

But if she was angry—if she blamed him for what had happened…

The idea was more horrifying than any near-death experience he'd ever survived. The only one that came even close was a memory of hanging off a cliff and an arrow plunging into his hand in an attempt to make him let go…and a promise…

Perhaps Kazuha felt his mild scrutiny or somehow sensed his conflict, even lost to slumber as she was, and she murmured softly in her sleep as she moved closer. Her hands groped blindly as she reached towards him, seeking and finding and curling up against him and his warmth. She crossed the gap between them first…even if she didn't necessarily know that she was doing so.

Heiji continued to watch her for a while longer until finally he felt his own eyelids beginning to grow heavy; sleep was threatening to drag him down, away from the peaceful moment. He struggled against it for a few minutes, but inevitably gave in. He took one more look before sliding an arm around her slender shoulders and letting himself join her in sleep.

Still, even as he drifted off to dreamland, he couldn't help but think that tomorrow morning was going to be very, _very_ interesting.

**---**

**PS.** _Happy Lurker Day, everyone! Hope you enjoyed the new Hug, short and smexy (and somewhat clichéd) as it was—my goal is to post the last fic for this challenge on my traditional Christmas Eve fic-dump. So we're gonna keep trucking right along. Thanks for reading, everyone. Much love!_


	17. Rings and Rods

**Title:** Rings and Rods  
**Fandom:** Detective Conan  
**Theme: **#25—the curtain falls  
**Pairing:** Hattori Heiji/Toyama Kazuha  
**Rating:** PG  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Detective Conan or any related characters. They belong to Gosho Aoyama. I simply throw fruit at them, take pictures, and call it modern art. Critics love me.  
**Summary:** Remodeling can be very, very dangerous.

**---**

When Kazuha had told him that she was redecorating her bedroom, Heiji had responded in the classic 'smile and nod' fashion. When she had then asked him to come over and help, he had balked before falling, a miserable victim to the tried and true Sad Puppy Dog Eyes.

It was because of this that he found himself inside on a beautiful Saturday morning—when he really should have been outside enjoying the sunlight and the amazing weather—up to his elbows in paint and assorted furnishings…and increasingly irritated at the situation as a whole.

They'd done most of the painting the night before, so it was time to start doing the rest of it. Heiji wound up getting a bunch of wadded-up fabric dumped into arms. Then Kazuha dropped a bunch of metal rings on top of those and shoved a curtain rod into his free hand and directed him towards the window with orders to go put the curtains up.

He went obediently, but not without a few grumbled complaints. Kazuha rolled her eyes and artfully ignored the muttering and went back to her work of unrolling posters of some of her favorite movies and musical artists.

For a few minutes, it was quiet, save for the sound of Heiji screwing the first curtain rod bracket into the wall above the window and then the muted clanking of the rod and rings hitting each other. And for those couple of moments, it was surprisingly peaceful.

Then…

"It's not straight," Kazuha chimed in from where she was hanging some posters on the far wall.

"Okay…" he straightened it and continued looping the rings onto the rod.

A couple of minutes passed.

"You're putting them on backwards," she pointed out.

"All riiiiiiight…" he said through gritted teeth, sliding the rings free to fix it.

Another thirty seconds went by.

"Aren't you done yet?" Kazuha sighed.

His temper went _SNAP_. "Look, if you want this done, then just shut—" Heiji roared and whirled around to face her fully—and forgot that the curtain rod he was holding over his head was not yet anchored fully to the wall. When he turned, he let go of it…

…and was cut off in mid-insult as the curtain fell, clonking him right in the head. Heiji's eyes rolled back into his head as he dropped to his knees and then went straight forward, facedown, onto the floor. He didn't move an inch.

Kazuha looked down at him for a moment before reaching down. After ascertaining that he was still breathing, she gathered the fallen curtains into her arms and headed for the door. "Dad! I think the curtains just killed Heiji! Can you come up and help?"

**---**

**PS.** _I figured it was time for a little humor. The last three were angst, fluff, and flangst (a combination of fluff and angst), so it was funny's turn. I hope you liked the random Heiji-abuse. Plus, I know what the theme usually means ("the curtain falls"), but…I thought this was more fun :D_

_Only thirteen left! Thanks for reading, everyone! Much love!_


	18. Lights Out

**Title:** Lights Out  
**Fandom:** Detective Conan  
**Theme: **#23—candlelight  
**Pairing:** Hattori Heiji/Toyama Kazuha  
**Rating:** PG (minimal swearing)  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Detective Conan or any related characters. They belong to Gosho Aoyama. I simply throw fruit at them, take pictures, and call it modern art. Critics love me.  
**Summary:** The thunder roared, the lightning flared, and the lights went out.

* * *

It wasn't that Kazuha was afraid of storms. 

Quite the contrary—she usually found them quite lovely. She knew people who were afraid of thunder and lightning, but what other people feared, she enjoyed. Listening to the sounds of a storm relaxed her, and nighttime rains could put her to sleep as little else could.

And right now was just that kind of weather: rain, thunder, lightning, wind, nighttime—the works.

Unfortunately, there wasn't much enjoyment to be had at the moment, as Heiji had decided that now was the perfect time to have another one of their infamous arguments. Smack dab in the middle of his living room just as she was trying to leave, no less.

Between his usual antics (involving childish comments regarding her figure, her intelligence, and other such things) and her irritation at missing out on a perfect storm, Kazuha returned with a few of her own choice comments (many involving thoughts about his mental state, his looks or lack thereof, and one particularly creative statement questioning his parents' marital status at the time of his birth).

In other words, just another screaming match.

But finally, as the obscenity contest faded into a glaring silence, the music of the storm took over to fill the void. The thunder roared, the lightning flared—

—and the lights flickered and went out, plunging the house into total darkness.

"…well, shit," Heiji cursed after a moment.

Kazuha heard the scuffling sounds of movement, and then a hand brushed her shoulder. Instinct nearly forced her to step back, but she stood still. "Heiji—got a flashlight, or some candles or something?"

"Yeah, I think there are some in the kitchen…" he muttered. "C'mon, watch your step."

The argument already forgotten, she obediently trailed after him towards the kitchen. She did have to bite back a smile, though, as she heard a _clunk_ (which she assumed was his shin hitting something) and then some cursing. But they made it with all their limbs intact.

Unfortunately, an unpleasant discovery was waiting for them once they got there.

"Hell of a time to find out the batteries are dead," Heiji grumbled, flicking the switch on the flashlight back and forth, on and off, even though it wasn't having any effect. The flashlight bulb remained dark, and so did the room. Finally, he dropped the worthless flashlight back into the drawer and shut it before fumbling around. "I think Mom keeps some candles in here…"

Kazuha waited patiently. She heard another drawer open, more scuffling and scraping…

Finally, something slender was pressed into her hand, and she instinctively wrapped her fingers around it in response. "Here." There was the snap of a match being struck, and a small flame appeared in the air. In seconds, the candle in her hand was lit, casting a warm yellow glow across her face and hands. Heiji's face was suddenly illuminated.

"Yay for light," Kazuha murmured happily, watching as Heiji held a second candle to hers to light it. With the introduction of light and the absence of bickering, the atmosphere seemed much more relaxed. "Let's go back out to the living room. We can wait there until the power comes back."

"Sounds good," Heiji agreed without argument.. He moved past her to lead the way back towards the appointed room; he unceremoniously dropped onto one end of the couch and waited while she perched beside him. Beyond the windows there, the storm raged through the darkness.

They were quiet for a long moment before Kazuha spoke up. "I really like storms?"

"Hmm?"

"Storms. I don't get why people are afraid of them," she said quietly. "I think they're pretty. The sound of the rain is so relaxing, and I really like thunder and lightning. I love storms."

"A long time ago," Heiji commented, "people thought thunder meant that the gods had been angered. They feared it because it meant the wrath of the gods. Now…I dunno. If people don't understand things, their first instinct is to fear it."

"…do you like storms?"

"I guess so."

Kazuha fell silent, sensing that the short-lived topic had been exhausted. Instead, she glanced around the room. The candlelight alleviated the gloom in some ways, while in others it almost made it worse. Shadows that were faint in the night now grew and lengthened and seemed to move of their own volition…and Kazuha found it more than a little creepy.

Still, she held her tongue. Teasing from Heiji was _not_ what she needed right then. Instead, she tried to focus on the flame of her candle, watching it writhe and dance in the embrace of the air around it. And she listened to the storm, the soothing sound of rain…she began to relax…

A cell-phone ring dropped into the quiet.

Kazuha jumped up and let out a yelp…and dropped her candle.

Heiji was on his feet in a second, grappling at the fallen light in a panic. Fortunately, the flame had gone out when the candle bounced off the floor. He picked it up and turned to her; the way the light cast on his face gave him an almost demonic look.

But he grabbed his phone—the remaining candlelight allowed him to find it on an end table—and answered, still glaring at her. "Hello? Mom? Yeah, we're fine…uh-huh…we found the candles…nope, everything's all right. Uh-huh…uh-huh…yeah…okay. Yeah. See you when you get home. Later."

He hung up the phone, slowly put it into his pocket, and turned to give her a Look. "Are you crazy? Are you trying to set my house on fire?" he growled.

"No," Kazuha shook her head. "It was an accident."

Heiji rolled his eyes and sat back down, glowering. He didn't give her the candle back, though.

Kazuha stood in the darkness for a moment, thinking. Then she walked past him, stumbling only slightly, and walked out of the room without a word.

"Where are you going, ahou?" Heiji called after her.

"Outside."

There was a pause before he spoke again. "You're not serious."

The front door opened, allowing the sound of rain to echo loudly through the entryway and front hall. "Yes, I am." There were footsteps, and the door closed, and it all fell silent.

Heiji sat still for about five seconds before he realized that she'd actually done it. He jumped up, blew out his candle, and sprinted to the front door (without casualty), pausing only long enough to grab a jacket and slip his shoes on before dashing out into the storm. For a moment, he was blinded by the rain, but squinting through it, he could see her, spinning around in the middle of his yard.

"Kazuha!" he called to her. "You're crazy!"

She turned to him, and he could see that she was already completely drenched…but she was smiling broadly. "Isn't it great?" She twirled again, holding her arms out at her sides like a little girl pretending to be a ballerina. Her hair was hanging loose; she'd either pulled the ribbon from her hair, or the wind had torn it away. Either way, her hair was swinging around her, long and free...and soaked.

"You're gonna get struck by lightning!" he hollered, feeling rainwater seep down the back of his neck. Great. Now _he_ was soaked. Peachy. "Kazuha, get your ass back inside!"

"Don't wanna!" she sang back, suddenly whipping around to jump in a sizable puddle on the sidewalk. She grinned at him and gestured for him to move closer. "Why don't you come over here?"

"Ahou!" he stormed towards her, reaching out with intent to grab her by the arm and drag her back inside…but instead, she startled him by lunging at him instead of dodging out of the way. Her arms caught him squarely around the waist, sending him stumbling backwards and finally to the sidewalk…

Right on his back in a puddle.

A nice, cold, wet, deep puddle.

Kazuha giggled and jumped back to her feet, laughing.

Heiji sat up. He was now drenched to the skin. He was cold, he was not exactly happy…and there she was, grinning at him like she'd just won some huge battle. All she'd done was knock him in a puddle! Oh, he'd show her who was boss…

With a growl, Heiji launched himself up from the puddle and at Kazuha. She screamed and dodged and took off running as he gave chase, shouting something about her not getting away with this. Eventually he got her, and Kazuha's nose received a rather abrupt introduction to the wet grass. Granted, he hadn't meant to face-plant her, but she'd twisted at the last second.

Finally, after quite the battle, Kazuha tackled him one last time, knocking the two soaked, muddy teens back onto the grass; she wound up sprawled half on top of him, while he landed on his back in the wet grass, one of his arms draped casually across her back. They were drenched and messy and laughing their heads off as the rain continued to pour down on them.

Kazuha grinned. "We haven't done that since we were kids!"

"You are a NERD," he retorted.

"Maybe..." she let her head rest against his chest.

There was a pause. "Kazuha?"

She just shook her head and sighed. "Told you I liked storms."

* * *

**PS.** _Moving along, moving along._ _This was a half-formed PWP plunnie…as I'm sure you can tell. I had no idea where this was going, and it wound up there. Somehow...okay, I admit it. I HAD NO PLOT! AND I DIDN'T REALIZE IT UNTIL HALFWAY THROUGH! Partially inspired by a storm we had a couple of nights ago, and the people I saw outside in it :D_

_So anyway, only eleven left! Thanks for reading, all. Much love!_


	19. Ghost of a Chance

**Title:** Ghost of a Chance  
**Fandom:** Detective Conan  
**Theme: **#13—euthanasia  
**Pairing:** Hattori Heiji/Toyama Kazuha  
**Rating:** PG  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Detective Conan or any related characters. They belong to Gosho Aoyama. I simply throw fruit at them, take pictures, and call it modern art. Critics love me.  
**Summary:** The building was allegedly haunted. But Kazuha didn't really believe it…

* * *

The door to Kazuha's dorm room opened. 

She looked up, fully expecting to see someone standing there (possibly her roommate), or perhaps Heiji, coming to pick a fight (the ahou didn't know how to knock), or even one of her newfound college friends—it seemed a little odd that one of them would just walk in without knocking, but she had said that they were always welcome.

So she was surprised when the door opened about a third of the way…and stopped.

And there was no one there.

A bit surprised, she got up and went to the door and peered out into the hallway. It was void of people and sound; it was early afternoon, so most people were probably either in class or at lunch.

Kazuha frowned, but shrugged it off and closed the door again. But as she turned around, she caught a glimpse of the clock and realized that it was actually getting to the time where she herself needed to be getting to class. Already forgetting the door incident, she went to gather her supplies…

To find that the power cord for her laptop wasn't where she'd left it.

A quick search later, she located it…on her bed. First of all, she knew for certain that she hadn't left it there. And secondly, she always coiled hers up a different way. Well, that was kind of strange…

But she didn't have a whole lot of time to ponder over it. She had to get to class! Again pushing the strange happenings from her mind, she gathered her things and shoved them into her bag. She paused long enough to turn the air conditioner on so the room would be nice and cool when she got back, and headed out, locking the door behind her.

She got to class a few minutes early and pulled out her various supplies while getting into a conversation with one of the upperclassmen she'd befriended early on. And for a lack of other conversation topics, Kazuha casually mentioned the strange experience with the door and the power cord. She expected a chuckle and maybe a comment about the weirdness.

Instead, she got wide eyes and a dropped jaw in response. "What?" Kazuha asked, confused.

Her friend, Hana, looked around before leaning in to whisper conspiratorially, "…it's Hikaru."

"Who's Hikaru?" Kazuha asked.

"You haven't heard? The dorm you live in is haunted—we call the ghost Hikaru," Hana explained with a grin. "The story goes that her house stood where the dorm is now. Supposedly, she went nutso from lead poisoning and jumped off her roof. She haunted her house, and then when they tore that down and built the dorm, she just moved in. I think room three-oh-five is supposed to be her home base."

Kazuha's eyes went really wide.

It took Hana a minute to get it. "…you live in three-oh-five, don't you?"

Kazuha nodded.

The older girl grinned. "Then I think you're going to make a new friend, aren't ya?" She winked and turned her focus to the front as the professor entered and started class.

Kazuha, however, wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention to the material at hand. She was a little more preoccupied with the idea that there was a third person (in a manner of speaking) occupying her dorm room. Not that she was scared or anything, no way, nuh-uh, never.

Still, she had to admit that it was awfully weird when she came back to her room after class and found the door locked, but the air conditioning was off. And she knew for a fact that her roommate hadn't been back—her roommate had taken off early to go home for the coming weekend.

_**-o-**_

Kazuha told Heiji about it as they were finishing up a late-night snack in the dining area.

And his reaction was pretty much what she had expected.

"You…you actually believe that?"

Yup. He laughed hard enough to choke on the last bite of his sandwich. Maybe she shouldn't have told him the story while he was chewing a mouthful of food…oh well. He deserved it for laughing at her.

She waited until he'd calmed down (and dislodged the food from his throat) before leveling a full glare at him. "It's not funny—I'm telling you, my room is haunted!"

"Kazuha…there's no such thing as ghosts!" Heiji told her, shaking his head and getting up from the table. He gathered the remains of their snacking, still chuckling to himself, and led her towards the door. "I mean it—you've said some stupid stuff in the past, but this takes the cake."

Kazuha valiantly resisted the urge to swat him in the face, and instead went about picking up their styrofoam glasses to deposit in the garbage can before meeting him at the door. "You're not listening. I know what I saw and heard, Heiji. It really happened—something weird's going on in my dorm."

"Good god, ahou…" he shook his head, leading the way out of the building.

It was dark outside, and getting late. When she'd asked if he wanted to grab a snack, it had already been dark. And in a rare display of gentlemanly behavior, Heiji walked her back to her dorm in spite of the fact that it was a bit out of his way.

And the argument continued—Heiji insisting that Kazuha was losing her mind, and Kazuha telling Heiji of a few questionable things he could do with a machete and some dental floss, and both making extensive use of the word 'ahou.' Just more of the usual.

They were approaching her building, nearing the door directly down from her room. And Heiji was obviously getting frustrated by what he saw as a refusal to listen to reason. Finally, he wheeled on her and shouted, "For the last time, ahou, there's no such thing as this 'Hikaru' person!"

The light at the top of the fire escape went off.

Kazuha looked at it for a minute before stomping off. "God, you're IMPOSSIBLE!" She heard Heiji calling after her, and hollered back, "I hope Hikaru eats you, you ahou!" And she threw open the door and went inside with the intention of going to her room, crawling into bed, and not moving until Monday.

Happy Friday, indeed.

It was that third flight of stairs that always got her, and by the time she got there, she was slightly winded. The regular lights in the hallway were off, with only the emergency lights for illumination.

…strange. Why were the doors moving like that? There was no one around—and she doubted everyone would be moving their doors like that at the same time or anything. So what…

Kazuha stood frozen in the hallway, looking around with wide eyes, as the doors up and down the hallway started to move. The doorknobs rattled as the doors began opening and closing by themselves. The heavy lounge door shook in its frame.

This went on for several seconds, though it felt like three or four eternities.

And then suddenly, all the doors slammed shut, and it all went still and quiet.

Enough was enough.

She turned and ran down the stairs, jumping them three at a time in her panic. Finally, she flew through the door and back into the night air. Whirling around, she took a few deep breaths to try and calm herself down. Then she fumbled into her pocket for her cell phone and made a call.

"'lo?" a familiar voice answered after two rings.

"Heiji?" she gasped into the mouthpiece. "Yeah. Listen, do me a favor. Get your ass over here."

_**-o-**_

"Kazuha, you're being ridiculous."

"No, I'm not! The rumors are true!"

"There's no such thing as ghosts."

"Then explain that door!" Kazuha huffed. She threw open the door to her room—the same door that had earlier decided to open on its own. "Doors don't open by themselves, genius!"

"Maybe the building shifted or something?" Heiji suggested, following her into the room and closing the Door of Creepy. "Maybe someone twisted the knob as they walked by? There are a million ways that door could have opened on its own. You're being ridiculous."

Kazuha glared at him, then sighed and turned back to her room, haphazardly dropping her bag on the floor by the desk and kicking her shoes off. "Whatever. I'm going to…oh crap…" She looked around, then turned back to Heiji with wide eyes. "Do you want to stay here tonight?"

Heiji's mouth had been open for an obvious rebuttal, but closed it again with a click. "…what?"

"My roommate went home for the weekend," she explained quickly, nervously wringing her hands in front of her. "And I really really REALLY don't want to stay here by myself…or not so much by myself. Anyway—please don't leave me here alone? Please?" For good measure, she threw him a big pair of good ol' sad puppy dog eyes.

He stared at her for a moment, then seemed to completely grasp that she was actually serious. And slowly, he nodded. "Okay…if you're sure it's okay. I mean, if you're really that scared. Ahou." He threw the jibe in just for good measure, of course.

Still, she crossed the space between them and threw her arms around his torso for a tight hug. "Thank you! Thank you thank you thank you!" She released him quickly and then raised an eyebrow. "Now turn around please. I need to change."

_**-o-**_

When Kazuha had asked Heiji to stay the night, she had forgotten one itty bitty but ever so crucial little tiny detail: he had to sleep somewhere. He refused to sleep on the floor, and she wasn't about to foist him off onto her roommate's bed (there were limits, thank you very much). Which really left one option.

A very, very cozy option.

"I can't believe this…" she muttered into her pillow, feeling the lofted bed sway slightly as someone joined her. "I can't freakin' believe it…"

"Hey, I can always leave," Heiji shot back, squirming to find a comfortable position.

"Stay put."

It took a minute to find a comfortable position. Finally, they seemed to comprehend that they'd have an easier time of it if they were to actually have physical contact, and at last found a comfortable post, curled together, as awkward as it was. But once they were both organized in a way that lent itself to actual sleeping, they realized that they'd forgotten something very, very important.

The lights were still on.

"Aww, dammit," Heiji sighed. "I'll get it." He started to sit up…

…and stopped as one of the CDs Kazuha had so carefully hung on the wall by the door fell off.

And somehow managed to hit the light switch dead-on.

And turned the lights off, plunging the room into darkness.

For a moment, neither of the two moved.

But finally, Kazuha couldn't quite contain herself anymore. "Well, genius?"

Heiji cleared his throat loudly. "…that doesn't mean anything…"

* * *

**PS.** _Believe it or not, this is another BOATS fic. Based On A True Story. My dorm is allegedly haunted by a ghost we affectionately call Mary Swope. The above story was a compilation of several experiences, including mine, my friend Ashley's and a couple of my dorm neighbors. I think it's fun, but other people think it's uber-creepy.__ Anyway, Ashley gave me her permission and blessing to use her story in a fic. Praise her, I say! I trust her with my firstborn, and I do believe her. And for the record, the thing with the CD? Actually happened. Yeah. Take it how you will :)_

_I also stretched the theme a little bit for "euthanasia" to be a reference to suicide. Not one hundred percent correct, but...yeah. Just making it work how I need it to. Thanks for reading, everyone. Much love!_


	20. Taking Flight

**Title:** Taking Flight  
**Fandom:** Detective Conan  
**Theme: **#12—run away  
**Pairing:** Hattori Heiji/Toyama Kazuha  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Detective Conan or any related characters. They belong to Gosho Aoyama. I simply throw fruit at them, take pictures, and call it modern art. Critics love me.  
**Summary:** After all this, you were just going to leave without saying goodbye?

* * *

Kazuha gazed forlornly out the window. It was late afternoon, still bright and warm, and the sun was juuuuust starting on its downward trek towards the horizon, where it would vanish into the brilliant blaze of sunset before night fell.

One elbow lifted to rest on the arm of her chair, and her chin lowered to rest in her palm. She was a mess right now: she hadn't showered, she was wearing her clothes from the day before, and her hair felt tangled and itchy—she'd thrown it back into its usual ponytail only to get it out of her way.

A voice poked its way into her thoughts, and she closed her eyes against it.

With a sigh, she sat back in her seat, but continued to watch out the tiny airplane window as they completed take-off and pulled away from the ground. She expertly ignored the way her stomach seemed to surge upwards into her throat. Instead, she just kept her gaze focused on the blue sky and white clouds beyond the window, thinking about everything and nothing at all. Next stop, Tokyo.

_**-o-**_

Mouri Ran was surprised, to say the least, to find her Osakan friend on her doorstep. But she didn't let it stop her from going about things with her typical efficiency. Immediately rising to her unexpected role as hostess, she ushered her friend inside, relieved her of her school satchel (the only bag she was carrying), and set about making sure things were prepared.

Kazuha felt horrible for springing this on her without warning. She felt horrible all around, really. But she sat silently at the table and watched Ran hurry to prepare tea for them both. Finally, she joined her at the table with a tea-tray in her hands. Kazuha gratefully accepted the offered drink, and took a long sip, feeling herself warm from head to toe.

It was the most human she'd felt all day.

"Kazuha-chan…" Ran asked after a moment, "I don't want to be rude, but…why are you here?"

She'd known this would come eventually—and Ran had every right to ask. Still, she didn't really want to answer…but she'd couldn't say nothing. "I…had to get away," she replied softly, looking down into her tea-cup. She had both hands wrapped around the warm ceramic, enjoying the feeling of heat.

"Away from what?"

Kazuha didn't answer this time, knowing full well that Ran would guess.

"…it's Hattori-kun, isn't it?" Ran asked. "Did you two have another fight?"

She shook her head. "Not exactly."

Ran cocked her head to the side. "What do you mean?"

"It's just…" she grappled for the right words before finally deciding on, "…something happened. And everything just changed. Changed between us, I mean. And now I can't…" She trailed off, and then shook her head. "It's over. It's all over."

"How can it be over if it never even started?" Ran asked thoughtfully.

When Kazuha finally looked up at her friend, it was to a knowing, sympathetic look. "What?"

"I'm home!"

Both girls jumped at the sudden intrusion into their conversation. But Ran recovered first to bestow her best big-sister smile on her young charge. "Conan-kun! How was school?"

"Fine…" he replied, but looked a bit surprised when he saw their company. "Kazuha-neechan? Did you come to visit?" His childish expression brightened a bit. "Is Heiji-niichan here, too?"

Conan's smile faltered when Kazuha winced and looked away. At a loss, he turned to the person who he knew always had all the answers. "Ran-neechan? Did I say something wrong?"

She shook her head. "Conan-kun? Could you leave us alone for a while?"

Looking a bit bewildered, he nodded and immediately absented himself. Neither girl noticed that he didn't _quite_ close the door all the way, nor did they notice the small shadow lurking just beyond that open crack in the doorway. Still, neither spoke for a long moment.

"Kazuha-chan," Ran said quietly after the pause, "what happened…is it what I think it is?"

Green eyes closed as a visible struggle waged itself on the girl's face at the question. She didn't open her eyes again, even as she answered the question, her voice hushed and…ashamed?

"…yes."

"And you ran away?"

"…yes."

"…did he hurt you?"

"No. It was more me hurting myself."

Ran paused and took a drink of her own tea before continuing. "Hattori-kun's probably panicking by now. I assume that you didn't tell him you were leaving or where you were going?" When her friend shook her head, she sighed. "You can't hide from him forever. I think we both know that. Maybe we should call him and let him know—"

"NO!" Kazuha half-shouted. "Don't call him! Please!"

Startled, Ran stopped in mid-sentence and stared at her in shock.

"I screwed up," Kazuha sighed. "I didn't think, and I did something I shouldn't have. And then I just turned tail and fled. I woke up, I realized what happened, and I panicked. Ran-chan…" She bit her lip and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, putting her face in her hands. "I'm exhausted. I haven't eaten anything yet today. I haven't showered. These are the clothes I wore yesterday. My hair's a mess. And I proved that I have no manners at all by showing up on your doorstep and expecting you to take care of me." She took a shaky breath, signaling that tears were fast approaching. "…I'm just a mess right now."

Ran listened quietly to her outburst before speaking again, a thread of sadness seeping into her voice. "I don't think you're a mess, Kazuha-chan. I really think you're very lucky…because you can see him whenever you want—you can be with the one you love." She was only mildly surprised when the word 'love' brought no reaction or stuttering disclaimers. "But that means you'll have to talk to him."

Kazuha winced. "Ran-chan, I've already screwed things up beyond repair. I didn't think before I acted—in either case—and then I ran away…" The faint shimmer of tears sprang to her eyes. "I ran away from the best thing that ever happened to me. I couldn't have messed this up more if I tried."

"You made a mistake," Ran said wisely. "It happens. And now you can fix it." Kazuha was silent; she didn't move as Ran got to her feet and moved around the table to give her a hug. "Come on," Ran said after releasing her. "I think you'll feel better after a shower and a change of clothes. Then we'll figure out what to do. Okay? I'm not going to make you go through this alone."

"Thank you…"

Neither noticed a small form moving away from the door.

And neither heard the digital song that meant a phone was being dialed.

_**-o-**_

Ran was right: a shower and a change of clothes did wonders.

Kazuha had spent much longer in the bath than she'd really needed to. But the warm water had been so relaxing, and she'd been able to sit and think and just soak up the heat. When she had finally climbed out of the tub, she'd found that Ran had raided her own closet and left her an outfit just outside the bathroom door. It was fortunate that they were near the same size; the clothes fit quite comfortably.

When she came out, clad in a pair of Ran's jeans and a simple green polo shirt, combing through her wet hair with her fingers, she looked and felt a great deal better than she had all day.

Ironically, Ran was in a slightly more sour mood by the time Kazuha emerged from the bath, and was slamming things around in the kitchen. Upon questioning, she said that her father had called to say he was out on a case and would be home late—which, according to Ran, translated to 'he was out playing Mahjong and drinking with his buddies and would probably come home in the wee hours of the morning, falling-down drunk.'

Still, she fixed a good meal for her guest and Conan-kun, who had reappeared once he had been informed he was no longer banned from the room. He talked cheerfully through the meal about his day at school and the like.

Kazuha, however, couldn't help but feel like the small boy was almost…watching her. The blue eyes, shielded behind his glasses, seemed far too knowing for comfort. But then she'd turn to ask him about it, and there would be only childish smiles and cheer, leaving her to wonder briefly if she was losing her mind. At this point, it wouldn't surprise her.

After dinner, Kazuha insisted on handling clean-up. It was the least she could do.

Once the last dish had been washed, dried, and put away, she had sheepishly asked to borrow a jacket, saying she wanted to go for a walk; Ran had immediately tossed her a white denim jacket and offered to go along. Kazuha declined, slipped on her shoes, and left.

The streets of Tokyo were dark, not quite deserted, but not too heavily populated. It was busy enough that she felt relatively safe from potential harm, but sparse enough that there was no risk of her thoughts being interrupted. She didn't know the area too well, and so tried to stay within a few blocks of the Mouri Detective Agency.

Her thoughts were the same as on the plane and in the bath: she thought of everything in the world, and yet nothing at all. But mostly Heiji and everything that had happened between them.

She had run away. There had been the potential for something amazing right in front of her…and instead of embracing it, she'd panicked, turned tail, and fled without a word of apology for her actions or explanation to the one she loved.

Kazuha was slowly realizing a few things about how she felt then and was feeling right now. It wasn't because she didn't want…it, necessarily, but more that she was afraid of it. She wanted something to change between them, wanted it so desperately she could taste it…and yet the idea of change was enough to send her flying.

Stupid. So stupid.

She turned a corner, and found herself on a darker, more deserted street. Instantly, she stopped and looked around. There were very few people out and about on this road, and it unnerved her slightly, despite the fact that she could easily defend herself against any physical threat.

It was getting late—she should probably be getting back now, before Ran-chan started to worry…

The cold stone wall collided with her shoulder as she suddenly slumped against it. The tears she'd barely realized she'd been holding in were slipping free and running their course down her cheeks. She slid down to the sidewalk, wrapped her arms around her stomach, and finally let herself cry.

She wasn't sure how long she stayed there, curled on the ground. But after a while, the tears ceased and ran dry. She quickly rubbed at her face to eradicate the telltale signs and stood up. Time to go back to Ran-chan's and figure out what she was going to do now…she'd have to go back to Osaka sooner or later, but still, there was so much—

"Kazuha."

Her breath froze in her lungs—she couldn't move for what felt like a ridiculously long time. But slowly, her limbs decided to cooperate again. And slowly, she turned around to face a speaker she had identified from one spoken word. She should have known long before that he would show up.

Heiji was watching her with a steady, unwavering gaze. His hands were shoved firmly into his jacket pockets, familiar cap perched on his head, and an uncharacteristically even expression on his face.

She sensed that he was waiting for her to speak, but she couldn't piece together a full sentence. And so she remained silent, knowing that he would say or do something eventually. She knew him: the tension would kill him before it killed her.

And he didn't disappoint her. "What are you doing here?"

She tried to reply with pleasantries—she was here visiting Ran-chan, what was his excuse? Or maybe even a jab about him following her here and stalkers…but none of it would come out. All she could manage was, "…how did you find me?"

"It wasn't that hard. There were two reasons I knew you were here, " he said with a shrug, as though it was completely obvious. "First of all, there were only so many places you could go. Your father said you hadn't been home—you should call him, by the way, he's absolutely frantic because he thought you were with me. None of your friends in Osaka had seen you, so it would have been a simple process of elimination, if not for the second reason."

"…what's the second reason?"

"The kid called me," Heiji replied. "He said you were here and talking to Neechan and you seemed really upset about something, and he thought I should come right away." He conveniently omitted the rest of the angry little discussion he'd had with the eight-year-old over the phone.

Conan-kun. That little…dammit. Try as she might, Kazuha couldn't bring herself to be angry with the boy. He probably had thought he was helping, bringing Heiji to her side…he'd have no way of knowing that Heiji was the problem, the thing she was running from in the first place.

"I see." That was all she said.

"So what are you doing here?" he repeated calmly, as though discussing the weather.

She swallowed hard and tried to remain nonchalant. "Visiting Ran-chan. And you?"

He was not amused, but she only knew that because she knew him so well; his expression remained relatively flat. And she could also tell that he'd been keeping his temper in check all day. "Kazuha," his voice rose menacingly, and he stalked towards her with long, rapid strides.

Instinctively, she stepped backwards. If she'd had more time to think about it, she probably would have turned and fled…. "Heiji, what are you doing—HEIJI!" He was looming over her—she found herself wondering when he had gotten so tall—and then he was holding her, pinning her arms against her sides. Without thinking, she struggled. "Heiji, don't!" she screamed, trying to wriggle out of his arms. "Stop it!"

He wasn't having any of it. "No."

"Dammit, Heiji! Let go!" she demanded again, wrenching her arms up to press at his chest. She was appalled to feel the sting of tears prickling in her eyes. She couldn't lose to him now… "Let go, or I swear to GOD I'll fight you." Not that she really could—she couldn't fight him, and that terrified her.

Heiji didn't say anything. He just held on, seemingly unafraid at her threat.

The burning in her eyes grew worse, and so did the panic…

And then he moved. He nearly picked her up, right off her feet, and pushed her back flat against the wall, effectively cutting off any hope of escape. And his arms…his goddamn arms were fast around her, holding tight and refusing to let go no matter how much she tried to push him away. Slowly, she let herself fall still, trapped like that between him and the wall.

Kazuha wanted to cry.

"We're going back," he said calmly as her struggles stilled. "We're going home—back to Osaka."

"No…"

"I'm taking you back with me."

She shook her head.

"Why not?" he asked in that same low, even tone. It was almost frightening how calm he was. There was no sign of his usual hotheaded temper—it wasn't like him at all…and yet…

"Why do you want me to go back with you?" she was unable to answer his question, and so countered with one of her own. The first tear finally fell, slipping down her reddened cheek. She knew he could see it—there was no way he could have possibly missed it—and that knowledge was humiliating.

"Because that's where you're supposed to be," he replied. "Because I don't understand why you ran away in the first place." His voice betrayed no sign that he'd seen her tears, even though she knew damn well that he had. "And because…" This time he trailed off.

"Heiji…I can't…" she shook her head. She squirmed half-heartedly, somehow hoping that he would miraculously let her go and she could run away from him and not look back…and still she wondered—if he did release her, would she really flee?

He was unyielding; he didn't so much as budge at her attempt to free herself. "You can. And you will. It's okay," he said, his tone softening. "Kazuha…after everything we've gone through together, were you really going to just disappear? Were you going to leave without saying goodbye?"

She shook her head again; her head fell forward to rest her forehead against his chest…and she let him hold her in arms that she'd only recently come to know. And she was completely in their power.

"Kazuha…" he repeated her name in a quiet voice.

"I would've come back eventually…" she whispered.

"I didn't know that," he replied. "I told you before, ahou. Even if I die, I won't let you go."

"I know," she said quietly. "I know…" She took a shaky breath. "Heiji…I love you."

"…I think I love you too," he said softly after a moment.

She accepted it for what it was: it was a confession borne of feelings that had only recently come to light, spurned by actions that had taken place in a moment of shattered self-control. She just buried her face in his shoulder. "Heiji, we need to talk."

Now it was his turn. "I know."

After a moment, he pushed her back against the wall again. Her head instinctively tilted backwards to look up at him, expectantly…and then he hesitated. For the first time since the beginning of this confrontation, he wavered in his course of action.

And at this point, Kazuha wasn't going to accept that. She rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him while he was apparently trying to make up his mind about it. And after the initial second of surprise, he eased into it and kissed her back.

It was a far cry from the level of what had already transpired between them. But at the moment, it was more than enough. And finally, Kazuha felt something deep inside her take flight.

And just soar.

* * *

**PS.** _And lo, we have reached number twenty. Ten more to go! WHOO! Take the plunnie. TAKE IT, DAMN YOU ALL! I throw it at you all and run! Seriously, this one didn't want to be written without a fight. Anyhoo, thanks to everyone who has stayed with me thus far, and thanks to everyone who will hopefully stick around for the remaining ten. I have every intention of finishing this challenge by Christmas, along with Nights. We're getting there!_


	21. Discovery

**Title:** Discovery  
**Fandom:** Detective Conan  
**Theme: **#19—aurora borealis; northern lights  
**Pairing:** Hattori Heiji/Toyama Kazuha  
**Rating:** PG  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Detective Conan or any related characters. They belong to Gosho Aoyama. I simply throw fruit at them, take pictures, and call it modern art. Critics love me.  
**Summary:** Kazuha unfolded the tiny slip of paper…and her jaw dropped.

* * *

Kazuha sighed and continued digging through the mess. This was so irritating.

Ever since Heiji had gotten a car, she'd found herself in a new role as his personal maid. It was irritating, but her inner housekeeper couldn't stand the mess in the vehicle. And it just got to a certain point where he couldn't take it anymore.

So she cleaned his glorified trash can.

But at the same time, she didn't want to throw away anything valuable. The ahou would yell at her for it later, best intentions aside. So she made sure to check everything before chucking it into the waiting garbage bag. It took forever, but then she wouldn't have to deal with his stupid messes for a while longer, until it got to the point where she once again couldn't stand it.

He really should consider himself lucky that he had someone like her to take care of him.

Ungrateful jerk.

_Almost done…_ she thought thankfully, reaching for the last slip of paper on the floor. She unfolded it and looked at it, intending to immediately label it "Important" or "Unnecessary" and throw it into the appropriate pile to be dealt with later.

She wasn't expecting it to be a jeweler's receipt.

And she definitely wasn't expecting it to prove record of a purchase of a certain piece of jewelry.

Kazuha just stared at it, completely forgetting her irritation at being her boyfriend's personal maid service. She was so startled by it that she failed to notice footsteps coming down the driveway towards her.

"Hey, Kazuha, are you—" Heiji appeared behind her, but stopped in mid-sentence when she turned and he saw the small slip of paper in her hand. He looked blank for a minute before he realized what she was staring at, then blushed and stepped back, looking embarrassed.

"Heiji," she whispered, "…you bought a ring?"

"…yes." Well, at least he was an honest ahou.

"…for?"

This time he didn't answer, and the silence said more on its own than words possibly could have.

She slowly rose from her knees. "Heiji? Is it for me?"

He fidgeted; his response was in a small voice. "…who else would it be for?"

Kazuha stared at him for a minute, startled by his actual admission—she'd half been expecting some sort of disclaimer, a denial, why in the world would he get a ring for her? That was more his style. To hear him openly admit that it was for her…and what that actually meant…

"When were you going to give it to me?" she asked lightly, walking towards him.

Heiji shrugged. "I don't know…when the moment seemed right, I guess."

"How about now?" she marched right up to him and slipped her arms around his neck.

"It's inside—I don't know if—" he started to speak, but trailed off at her proximity…and was silenced completely when she pressed a quick kiss to his lips. He gaped for a moment, opening and closing his mouth before managing, "…or I could go get it?"

Kazuha was smiling, and her eyes were glowing, a luminous green. "I think that's a good idea."

* * *

**PS.** _Based on a true story—not mine, sadly, but a friend of mine. She was cleaning her boyfriend's car, and found the receipt. And I just had to use it because I thought it was so cute :) Talking with **Fyli-chan** helped me piece it together. Thank you, lovey!_

_Again, stretching the theme just a bit—I saw the Aurora Borealis once, when it appeared in the sky here. The night sky was literally glowing green. It was beautiful…and so when I saw the theme, this is what came to mind: green and glowy. Hence, Kazuha's eyes at the end._

_Thanks for reading, everyone. Much love!_


	22. Dozing Off

**Title:** Dozing Off  
**Fandom:** Detective Conan  
**Theme: **#15— fait des beaux reves; sweet dreams  
**Pairing:** Hattori Heiji/Toyama Kazuha  
**Rating:** PG  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Detective Conan or any related characters. They belong to Gosho Aoyama. I simply throw fruit at them, take pictures, and call it modern art. Critics love me.  
**Summary:** No good. She was sound asleep.

* * *

The first sign that something was amiss came at the movie's end, when the romantic couple had their passionate embrace and Kazuha didn't say a word. No wistful sigh, no squeal of delight, no murmurs of how romantic it was. Nothing.

The second sign was when he audibly snorted at the aforementioned romantic scene, yet received no smack on the arm, no swat to the back of the head, and no incensed call of 'ahou' at his lack of appreciation for…whatever it was he was supposed to be appreciating, he really wasn't sure.

And the final clue came when Kazuha suddenly tilted over sideways, winding up with her head leaning precariously on his shoulder. It didn't take a detective to figure out that she had fallen asleep.

Heiji's first reaction (and probably his trademark one) was righteous indignation. How dare she fall asleep! She was the one who wanted to watch this dumb movie in the first place—she wouldn't shut up about how romantic it was supposed to be and blah blah blah all sorts of other girly stuff.

His second reaction (also in the true Heiji fashion) was a bit delayed. But when it finally hit, it went more along the lines of …_ho SHIZ she's on my shoulder panic panic ack whatdoIdo?_

Making a quick decision, he slipped out from under her, catching her shoulders to ease her down to the couch cushions; all the while, he prayed that she wouldn't wake up while he was holding her like that. That would be awkward. Luckily, while she did shift a bit and mumble, she didn't open her eyes, and as soon as she was lying down, she went straight back into a deeper sleep.

There. Now he could wake her up in good conscience—and get in some heckling while he was at it! "Kazuha," he called softly. Getting no reaction, he tried again. "Kazuha!" Still nothing. Getting irritated, he reached out and gave her shoulder a solid shake. "Oi, ahou!"

And finally, Kazuha moved.

She caught his arm with one hand and rolled over, wrapping both of her arms tightly around his wrist and holding it with all the possessiveness of a child with a favorite doll. When she settled again, she was facing the back of the couch, his arm trapped by hers against her chest. Heiji was left half-standing, half-kneeling beside the couch with his upper body half-draped over hers, staring in shock at this unexpected turn of events.

No good.

…actually, very bad. If she woke up and found him laying across her like that, it would not bode well for him. Not at all. No matter the reason for the position, she would probably kill him on principle.

Not good.

Heiji's mind was running in little circles—and why did his face feel so warm all of a sudden?

Kazuha…such an ahou. She couldn't even _sleep_ without being annoying!

If she woke up and found him like this, it would somehow be his fault.

The ahou.

He should just pull loose, and then give her hell when she woke up as a result.

Stupid ahou.

And…wow, he was startled to feel himself yawn. It was getting late, after all.

Hmm…maybe if he just closed his eyes for a minute, he'd be all right. Yes, that was a good idea.

_Just for a minute…_

Without really meaning to or planning to, he let his head droop forward to rest against Kazuha's shoulder. Not the most comfortable pillow he'd ever had, but still, it was surprisingly cozy.

Heiji yawned again and shut his eyes.

_Just for a minute…_

_**-o-**_

When Kazuha woke up, she felt something strange: a weight against her shoulders. As she drew more and more to wakefulness, she opened her eyes…and realized that the weight was Heiji. A sleeping Heiji, no less. And just as quickly, he realized that the reason he was sort of laying across her like that was because she was holding onto his arm hard enough to cut off the circulation.

For a minute, she didn't move—she didn't have a clue what to do.

Finally, she sighed…and smiled. It was sweet to see him asleep sometimes—he looked so calm, so peaceful, almost adorable…and it was the one time she could be around him and be guaranteed that he wasn't going to be a complete asshat. A win-win situation if there ever was one.

Kazuha listened to his breathing, felt his warmth…and closed her eyes with a contented sigh. She was so comfortable. _Sweet dreams, Heiji…_ she thought, letting herself drop off once more.

* * *

**PS.** _Whee, another one! Sorry about the hiatus, everyone. Been busy and burned out lately, so I took a break. But I'm back and feeling a lot better and in the mood to write! VICTORY POSE!! Yah, I know. Bad author, no biscuit. Only eight more for this challenge, and two of them are in varying stages of completion._

_L'anyhoodle, I hope you liked the little ficlet, and hope you'll come back for the next eight. Thanks for reading, everyone! Much love!_


	23. Playing in the Rain

**Title:** Playing in the Rain  
**Fandom:** Detective Conan  
**Theme: **#22—ichi-go ichi-e ("once in a lifetime")  
**Pairing:** Hattori Heiji/Toyama Kazuha  
**Rating:** R  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Detective Conan or any related characters. They belong to Gosho Aoyama. I simply throw fruit at them, take pictures, and call it modern art. Critics love me.  
**Summary:** There's something that I've always wanted to try…

* * *

"And you swear you checked the weather report before we left the house?" Heiji said, far too quietly. Quiet was worse than anger—quiet meant danger. 

Kazuha fidgeted slightly and glared out of habit. "It said there was a twenty percent chance of rain. That meant there was an eighty percent chance that it wouldn't rain. Get off my back."

"Ahou…" he muttered, wrapping his jacket a bit more tightly around himself.

It was a camping trip gone awry, courtesy of Mother Nature and a huge rainstorm. And as a result, tempers were running short and tension was running high. Still, it seemed wiser to wait until the rain at least let up a bit before packing everything up and making a break for it.

Still, Heiji was starting to get snippy, and Kazuha had had enough. She clambered over him and crawled along towards the ground towards the tent flap.

"What're you doing?" Heiji asked, watching her.

"I'm going outside," she replied angrily before disappearing out into the rain.

It took about two-point-two seconds for Heiji to feel bad about snapping at her. Sighing, he crawled after her and stuck his head through the open flap. "Kazuha, come back inside. At least it's…sort of dry in here." There was one corner of the tent that was dripping water, but the rest of it was holding up fairly well under the weight of the rain.

To his surprise, she wasn't really doing anything. She was just standing there, arms folded across her chest, head tilted backwards to look up at the sky. She was already soaked, the rain plastering her ponytail to the back of her nylon jacket. After a moment of this, she turned and gave Heiji an impish smile. "Hey, Heiji…"

He knew that smile…and he wasn't sure if he liked that smile. "What?"

"I have an idea," she sang. "Something I've always wanted to try—just once!"

"And that would be what?"

Kazuha didn't reply verbally. Instead, she simply stripped off her jacket and dropped it to the ground in front of the tent. Her gray T-shirt almost immediately turned a dark charcoal color as it was splattered with rain. He could hear her humming to herself as she reached up with one hand and pulled the ribbon from her wet ponytail, letting it fall loose.

"Kazuha, what are you…" Heiji trailed off into open-mouthed gaping as she casually peeled off the T-shirt (literally peeled it off—it was wet enough to stick to her skin) and tossed it aside as if it were nothing. The rain now fell on far too much bare flesh.

She ran her fingers through her wet hair and turned to look at him over her shoulder. "What?" she smiled mischievously. "Haven't you ever wondered what it would be like to dance in the rain?"

Heiji swallowed hard, not quite sure what to think or say in response to that. Laughing lightly at his reaction (or lack thereof), Kazuha skipped over—and he noticed absently that she was barefoot—and reached down to grab his hand. "C'mon! You can play too!" she giggled, pulling him out of the tent and into the rain.

And before Heiji had time to process any of this, her arms were around his neck and her lips were pressing against his in a way that was all too familiar, and yet still so addictive…so wonderfully intoxicating…

* * *

**PS.** _This was written on a VERY PERSISTENT REQUEST from **Strawberry-chan.** This is also only the first half of the story, as I don't want the Powers That Be to decree it too explicit or whatever (even though it's really not) and take this down. The full story can be found on my LiveJournal, which is my website on my profile._

_Thanks for reading, all. Much love!_


	24. Sunday Drive

**Title:** Sunday Drive  
**Fandom:** Detective Conan  
**Theme: **#24—love and hate  
**Pairing:** Hattori Heiji/Toyama Kazuha  
**Rating:** PG  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Detective Conan or any related characters. They belong to Gosho Aoyama. I simply throw fruit at them, take pictures, and call it modern art. Critics love me.  
**Summary:** On the highway of love, she is driving me INSANE.

* * *

Heiji was not the boss in his home. That honor belonged to his darling wife, who had apparently been taking lessons from his mother regarding her newly-acquired ability to make him shake in his shoes. So usually, he resigned himself to being the happy king of a different domain: his car.

Unfortunately…

"We'd better get going or we'll be late," Kazuha said, shutting the passenger door and reaching up to buckle her seat belt carefully around the cake in her lap. "Okay—Tomoe, Yukari, no fighting!" The two girls in the back seat bobbed their heads up and down in understanding.

As he shifted the vehicle into reverse, Heiji tried to ignore the feeling rolling around in the pit of his stomach—he was pretty sure he knew what was coming. It happened every time they drove anywhere, and he had no reason to believe it would be different this time. Still, he started to pull out…

"Be careful pulling out."

…it was already starting. Still, he kept his mouth shut and eased on the gas.

"Slow down! We're not in a hurry!"

His grip tightened on the steering wheel.

"Put your blinker on—people aren't mind-readers."

They weren't even out of the driveway, and Heiji was already at the point of explosion. After shifting into drive and starting forward, he turned to glare at her. "Ahou—"

"Keep your eyes on the road."

"Keep your thoughts in your head," he growled as he lifted one hand from the steering wheel to shake a finger at her.

Kazuha's eyes widened. "Keep your hands on the wheel!"

Heiji snapped, "Shut your mouth, or I swear you're dead!"

She sat back in a huff. "I should have taken a goddamn cab."

"I think a pill would do a lot more good," he retorted.

Neither noticed their two daughters inching closer to each other in the backseat. "Mom? Dad?"

Unfortunately, Mom and Dad were a bit preoccupied. "Watch where you're going!"

"La la la, can't hear you!"

A few seconds later, Kazuha rolled down the window and screamed out it, "Help me!"

A hand grabbed the back of her shirt and pulled her back. "Get back in the car, crazy lady."

Heiji huffed and hunched over the steering wheel. _Goddamit…I really wish I had one of those James Bond cars with the awesome ejector seats. Seriously, why don't they make those? The car companies could make a freakin' fortune!_

"What are you doing?" she yelped for no reason, as far as he could ascertain.

"You know what?" he said in the most level voice he could manage at that moment. "If you know so much, then here! Why don't you take the wheel?"

"NO!"

Glaring triumphantly at her reaction, he refocused on the road.

Kazuha folded her arms and stared out the front windshield. _What is it with men? Why do they feel the need to make driving into a right of manhood? Honestly—we're trying to get from point A to point B, not demonstrate our testosterone._

It was rather stupid—at home they argued, just as they had always done. They bickered, pecked, and called each other ahou now and again. But when they got in the car…somehow, the unconventional love turned to a more conventional hate, and the marriage went straight to hell. Sometimes, it seemed a wonder that neither of them had gotten a lawyer on the phone yet.

Heiji chose that moment to pass a car in front of him, and she squeaked, "I swear, you're trying to kill me!" She reached up and grabbed the handle over the driver's door—she'd heard it called an 'oh shit' handle, but she preferred to call it an 'oh god' handle, because whenever she was holding onto it, she was busily talking to God.

Now the kids were piping up in the backseat, while Kazuha was again voicing her concern over his speed. And finally, Heiji said the one phrase that every parent swears they will never utter, but inevitably does: "DON'T MAKE ME STOP THIS CAR!!"

The car went silent for a moment.

Then a tiny voice piped up from the backseat. "We're growing up dysfunctional, you know."

Kazuha's forehead dropped into her palm. Yukari was only twelve years old, but…sheesh. Where did she get ideas like that, anyway? Kazuha privately blamed it on Heiji's DNA.

Finally, the Hattori residence came into view; they pulled into the driveway and stopped. Heiji slammed the gear shift into the park position, killed the engine, looked down at the dashboard…and his expression brightened. "Hey! We made good time!"

Kazuha grinned. "Well, that wasn't so bad. I've got the cake. Yukari, Tomoe, you're on best behavior—make sure to give Grandma and Grandpa a big hug." She climbed out and used her hip to knock the car door closed. The two girls in question didn't hear their mother's instructions, though. They were too busy sitting the backseat, clinging to each other for dear life.

* * *

**PS.** _The vast majority of this fic is inspired more or less verbatim by a song from the wonderful musical **I Love You, You're Perfect, Now Change. **I heard the song, and I seriously thought of Heiji and Kazuha trying to go on a drive. The kids (who were first mentioned in the eleventh one I posted, entitled "A Thousand Words") just kinda got dropped into it for fun._

_Only six left—yay! Thanks for reading, everyone. Much love!_


	25. In Her Eyes

**Title:** In Her Eyes  
**Fandom:** Detective Conan  
**Theme: **#10—just a memory  
**Pairing:** Hattori Heiji/Toyama Kazuha  
**Rating:** PG  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Detective Conan or any related characters. They belong to Gosho Aoyama. I simply throw fruit at them, take pictures, and call it modern art. Critics love me.  
**Summary:** She had found something that made him remember…

* * *

With slow, careful steps, she moved into the bedroom. She didn't come in here very often, but today she had decided that since it was somewhere she hadn't checked out yet, it was a perfect place to explore. She stood and looked around for a minute in search of a good place to start.

Her eyes fell on the closet door and lit up. Perfect! Closets were fun places to explore—even at her young age, she knew that people always hid good things in closets if one really looked. She toddled over and found the door just slightly ajar. She opened it just a bit farther and slipped inside.

Pushing by the clothes and shoes, she found some boxes at the back. Yay! Fun things to explore!

One box was full of boring-looking papers, though—the papers didn't even have any pictures! So she ignored it and another box like it. But the third box seemed to be a bit more interesting. In fact, the thing on top was something she had seen before—they had those things all over the house. They had pictures in them! Some of the pictures were even of her.

She looked down at the picture inside the frame—and her confusion turned to a smile of delight.

It was a picture of a pretty lady! Midori had seen that pretty lady before.

That was the lady who she had seen in her dreams—the one who was a beautiful angel.

_**-o-**_

Heiji was getting concerned—he'd asked both his older daughters if they knew where their younger sister was, and neither Yukari nor Tomoe had seen her in a while. So he was doing what any good father would do, and was searching for the his two-year-old daughter.

He was running out of places to look when his detective sense pinged, and he noticed that the door to the master bedroom was open a bit farther than earlier. Which probably meant that he'd find Midori in there somewhere—it was rather strange, though. She usually didn't go in there.

Still, he followed his senses and his instincts and went into the room. Sure enough, the closet door was open a crack, and he could hear rustling noises inside. Heiji crossed the room in three long strides, stepping around the bed to get to the door in question. "Midori-chan?" he pushed the closet door open the rest of the way. In the light that flooded the small space, a small figure was revealed. His youngest daughter was sitting the floor, digging through a box that he knew he'd shoved near the back…and she was holding a brown picture frame…

Suddenly, Heiji couldn't breathe.

_Gentle hands touched his face, neck, hair._

"_I love you…"_

"Daddy?"

He looked down at Midori, who was still sitting on the floor with that picture frame in her tiny hands. He couldn't see the photo in the frame, but he didn't need to see it to know what the picture held. Eyes identical to the ones shining up at him right at that moment.

"Daddy?" she chirped again, holding the frame up to him.

Heiji reached down to take it with stilted movements and pulled it up to look at it. He knew that photo all too well. In the days following Midori's birth, after…she'd gone, how long had he sat and looked at it, lost in the fog and of memories of moments that he'd taken for granted. He knew every line, every curve, every color of that photograph.

Now Midori was tugging on the hem of his sweater and pointing at the picture in his hands and making little whiny noises. "Daddy! Who?" she asked. "Pretty!" Her limited vocabulary hampered her, but she was still able to get her point across.

She wanted to know who the pretty lady in the picture was.

He stared at the picture for a moment longer before he sighed. It wasn't something that he'd thought he could keep from his youngest daughter forever—he hadn't even planned on keeping it from her. But he wasn't prepared for it to happen quite so soon.

Even after two years, it still hurt.

Midori stomped her foot and screamed at him and glared at him with those viridian eyes. "Daddy! Pretty angel!" She didn't like being ignored. So much like…

He closed his eyes.

_**-o-**_

"_There's no time!" the doctor's voice had risen in pitch—unmistakable panic. The entire room had exploded with noise and movement. Something was wrong. He heard something about a complication, but no one could stop to tell him what exactly was happening._

_All he could think about was her…what was happening to her?_

_And through the chaos came one voice. Soft, tearful…yet somehow able to quiet the ruckus and be heard over it all._

"_Please," Kazuha whispered. "Please…please save my baby."_

_Heiji was at her side in a heartbeat. "Kazuha…"_

"_I know," she said softly, reaching up to touch his face. "I know…"_

"_You can't—"_

_Her head fell back and she cried out in pain. "Heiji…"_

_He didn't know what to do or say…there was so much to say, but there were no words. Nothing would come out. But somehow, he knew…this was it. This was his last chance._

_The roar of the doctors faded away to nothing around them as he held her hand and touched her face and tried to make his voice cooperate at all. And she just smiled up at him with that same knowing smile that always used to make it seem like everything would be just fine with the world._

_Except now it wasn't true, not true at all._

_And then a baby's cry filled the air, surrounding them._

"_I want to see her," Kazuha whispered—she was already so pale… "Let me see her…" He held their daughter out to her and watched through blurred eyes as she reached out and touched the baby's cheek with a shaky finger. "Hello…Midori. Midori-chan…"_

_Midori._

_That was her name._

_The doctor was taking the baby away now, and his hands were back around hers, holding on as though he could somehow keep her there just by grasping tightly enough. And still he couldn't find his voice—why was this happening now…_

_Kazuha reached up to him again, caressing his face, touching his neck, combing through his hair with gentle fingers. "I love you…"_

_He swallowed hard and finally managed to whisper back, "I love you too."_

_A moment later, a lifetime together was over._

_But he clung to her long after she'd let go of him._

_**-o-**_

"Dad?"

"Daddy?"

Two more voices joined together to create a small chorus of young female voices calling to him. Yukari…Tomoe…they'd probably heard Midori making a fuss and come to see what was up. He shook himself out of the awful memory—the worst moment of his life. He just felt like he was reeling.

And the girls were still calling to him.

Heiji took a deep breath and sat down on the floor. Turning his head, he addressed his older two. "Come in—sit down. It's okay," he said. They obeyed. As Yukari passed, she glanced down and saw the picture; her eyes widened. That was…and then she met her father's gaze and he nodded.

It was a little bit of a squeeze to fit all of them in there, but soon they were all sitting on the floor: Heiji sat facing his two older daughters. He gestured to his youngest. "C'mere, Midori-chan." She toddled right into his arms and let herself be swept up into his lap. And he picked up the picture frame; by now, Tomoe had seen it and was waiting nervously for what was coming.

"You see her, Midori-chan?" he asked softly.

"Pretty!" the two-year-old said happily. "Pretty lady!"

"Yes, she was," Heiji whispered.

"Who?" Midori asked, pointing again. "Pretty angel lady!"

Yukari put one hand over her mouth as a tear escaped and slid down her cheek. Tomoe put a hand on her sister's shoulder for support, though her reaction was the same. They hadn't talked about her in so long—at least not where their father could hear them. It just hurt too much.

Heiji took a deep breath and gave Midori a squeeze—the little girl his beloved had died to bring into the world. The little girl whose arrival had sent him walking on the clouds as it shattered his heart. The little girl who had Kazuha's beautiful green eyes.

"Midori-chan…this is your mother."

* * *

**PS.** _Whoo, angst._ _This came to me while I was listening to the song "Lily's Eyes" from **The Secret Garden.** Go look the lyrics up—it's a beautiful, sad song. That last part—in the closet—was inspired by a Rugrats episode of all things. Oh, and just so y'all know? The name **Midori** means "green." How fitting is that? I AM PROUD OF ME!_

_Also, this marks the second time I've openly wept while writing a fic. It happened twice—once when I was writing the very end, and the other during Heiji's flashback when Kazuha said for them to save her baby—I bawled straight through that whole part. I'd like to thank **Jeva** for reading large parts of this for me and assuring me that it did not suck :D_

_L'anyhoodle, hope you liked it. Five more, yays! Thanks for reading, everyone. Much love!_


	26. Washing Up

**Title:** Washing Up  
**Fandom:** Detective Conan  
**Theme: **#6—oxygen  
**Pairing:** Hattori Heiji/Toyama Kazuha  
**Rating:** PG  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Detective Conan or any related characters. They belong to Gosho Aoyama. I simply throw fruit at them, take pictures, and call it modern art. Critics love me.  
**Summary:** There are some chores that Heiji shouldn't be allowed to do.

* * *

"I'm going shopping with Ran-chan and Aoko-chan!" Kazuha called. "I'll be back later! Don't burn the house down while I'm gone!"

And with those lovely parting words, the front door slammed shut, signaling her exit.

Still sitting at the table, Heiji grumbled behind his newspaper. Don't burn the house down, she said. Honestly—what if he dropped dead of a heart attack or something while she was out? And she came back and found him on the floor. Would she be able to live with herself knowing that her last words to her adoring and arguing husband were "Don't burn the house down"?

What an ahou.

Still, he waited a few minutes to see if she was going to come back. But when the door did not open and no screeching voice invaded his senses, he concluded that she was gone for real. Meaning that he had the house to himself. Translation? Total freedom!

Granted, total freedom usually meant that he grabbed a book (usually an Ellery Queen novel, because Ellery Queen was a million times better than Sherlock Holmes—in your face, Kudo!) and read until he zonked out on the couch to be found by his irritated wife upon her return home. This would usually be followed by a scathing lecture about helping out around the house and his apparent inability to do so.

Well, today he was going to show her! He was going to prove to Kazuha once and for all that he was perfectly capable of doing simple household chores without prodding, nagging, yelling, or destruction of anything valuable.

No matter how much he preferred the book option.

After careful thought, he had decided that doing the laundry was probably his best bet. First of all, Kazuha had remarked the night before that the chore needed to be accomplished within the next couple of days. Secondly, how hard could laundry be? Honestly—put the clothes in the washer, drop in some soap, hit the button, and let 'er rip. When it goes ding, move wet clothes to the dryer, start that, rinse, lather, repeat until finished. Then just fold and put away.

How hard could it possibly be, anyway?

Everything was already down in the laundry room, ready to rock. He just had to get it running.

Humming tunelessly to himself, he headed on in. "Okay, so first we toss the clothes in." He grabbed a few things from the hamper and began piling them into the washer. When it looked appropriately full, he looked around. "Soap, soap…soap!" He located the elusive detergent and regarded it thoughtfully. "Hmmm…" He eventually just dumped some in and closed the washing machine door. "There! One load in." He turned and wandered back towards the living room, feeling inordinately proud of himself. "Sheesh, why didn't I even do this before? Would get Kazuha off my back…"

Half an hour later, at the sound of the ding, he put down his book and meandered back down to the laundry room…and found himself staring at a pile of very oddly-colored laundry. Strange…he knew for a fact that that particular shirt had been white when it when in the washing machine. Why in the world was it pink now? A rather lovely pink, but…pink!

Heiji pondered it for a minute before deciding that maybe he hadn't put enough soap in. So he tossed the now multi-colored clothing into the dryer and grabbed the next load. Shoving it into the washing machine, he grabbed the detergent. "So if I put this much in last time…"

And he merrily poured half the bottle into the machine, closed it, and started it.

Still feeling inordinately proud of himself, he decided to pick up a little bit around the house. And Kazuha probably thought she was going to get to chew him out when she got home—well, he'd show her! Honestly, sometimes he thought she enjoyed yelling at him (it was sort of their shtick), so really, in not doing anything, he was theoretically doing her a favor, right?

…it was official, he decided. Their relationship really was too complicated.

Picking up didn't take too long, and he even went so far as to grab an old towel and do a little dusting. Nothing major, but enough to prove that he could do it without breaking anything. Knocking things over, yes, but nothing got broken.

By the time he'd finished all those other little chores, he heard the washing machine ding again, and so he headed back towards the laundry room with the intent of continuing with this nice little chore.

The sight that met his eyes was not quite what he expected, though.

Heiji stared at the bubbles pouring down the front of the washing machine and swore under his breath in the most colorful language he knew. Now there was this mess to clean up in addition to getting the rest of the laundry done. Great. Just freakin' peachy.

The house phone picked that moment to ring, and he sprinted to answer it. "Hello?"

"Heiji, it's me!" Kazuha cheered from the other end. "Ran-chan's sick, so we'll be finishing up earlier than we thought we would. Aoko-chan and I are going to finish up and take her home, so I'll be home in a couple hours, okay? See you soon!"

The call disconnected before he could reply, leaving Heiji to swivel his head between staring at the beeping receiver in his hand, the soap suds bubbling merrily all over the floor, and the pile of formerly-white (now pink) clothes going 'round and 'round in the dryer…and wonder how this had gone this wrong, and what exactly he had done to deserve to be this screwed.

_**-o-**_

When Kazuha came home two hours later, she half-expected to find the house in shambles and everything in it utterly destroyed. Hell, part of her was fairly certain that she'd be lucky if she came home and found the house still standing, period!

Instead…it was reasonably clean. It wasn't perfect or anything, but then again, this was Heiji. But even more amazing was the fact that as she walked towards their bedroom, she actually ran into her husband…who was holding a basket of folded laundry.

Heiji froze when he saw her and fidgeted a bit nervously. "Oh—umm, hi!" He was honestly hoping to get at least a few more minutes to finish drying off the floor in the laundry room; it was by the grace of the gods (and the miracle of heavy-duty sponges) that he'd gotten those suds down the drain. And he'd done his best to bury the newly-discolored laundry at the bottom of their drawers or the backs of the closet so it wouldn't be discovered right away.

Kazuha smiled. "Heiji, you…did laundry?"

"Umm, yeah…" he trailed off; he shifted the laundry basket against his hip and cleared his throat loudly. "I'm not very good at this kinda thing, but…I thought maybe I could surprise you?"

"That's so sweet!" Kazuha said, reaching up to hug him—she was genuinely touched at what he'd attempted to do for her. Attempted was the keyword, because she didn't know if he'd actually succeeded or not. Still, he hated chores like that, and so that made it all the more special.

It wasn't until the next morning, when Kazuha went to get dressed, that she discovered a big bleach spot on one of her favorite shirts. And Heiji found himself running for his life as his irate wife yelled to tell him all the things she could do to him with some good quality hydrogen peroxide.

* * *

**PS.** _I've never actually screwed up laundry like that. YAY ME! Would Heiji really screw it up this bad? I have no idea, but I still find it funny. Also, I must admit that I'm rather fond of this interpretation of the theme. Hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading, all. Much love!_


	27. Cops and Robbers

**Title:** Cops and Robbers  
**Fandom:** Detective Conan  
**Theme: **#5—collide  
**Pairing:** Hattori Heiji/Toyama Kazuha  
**Rating:** PG  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Detective Conan or any related characters. They belong to Gosho Aoyama. I simply throw fruit at them, take pictures, and call it modern art. Critics love me.  
**Summary:** It was something they would remember years down the road.

* * *

Sometimes, Kazuha really hated playing Cops and Robbers with Heiji.

It wasn't really the game in and of itself—that was sort of fun. She enjoyed a good chase. But Heiji took it to a whole 'nother level. He'd been so fascinated by detective stories for so long that one day, he had gotten the crazy idea that he should become a detective, and thus the game sometimes became a bit more intense because of it.

Like right now, for example.

"Heiji!" she yelped in surprise as he jumped from somewhere above her and nearly landed on her head—where in the world had he been hanging, anyway? But it was no use—he'd gotten ahold of her arm and was not letting go.

"Gotcha!" he beamed (like an idiot, she noted privately).

Kazuha rolled her eyes and tugged to try and pull free. "Let go!"

"Nope!" Heiji smirked, pulling something out of his pocket. "Look what I found—I think they were my grandfather's? Aren't they neat?" The handcuffs dangled from his hand, twisting of their own volition and shining faintly in the light.

Kazuha looked at them a bit nervously before she realized what he was going to do. "Heiji, don't—" she started to protest, but she was cut off by the click of the handcuff locking around her wrist. She glowered at him and shook her wrist in protest. "Take it off!"

"Nope!" he grinned, oblivious (as usual) to her glare. As if to prove whatever idiotic point he was intent on making, he snapped the other half closed around his own wrist. "You're under arrest!"

Kazuha stomped her foot. "Take it off now!"

Heiji was all smiles. "Uh-uh!" He started walking away—with their wrists connected, she had no choice but to be dragged along for the ride. "You're going to jail!"

She didn't know where jail was, and he didn't seem to want to tell her, so she just let herself be bodily dragged along though his house. Unfortunately, he suddenly screeched to a stop, causing her to run right into him. It made her nose hurt.

He, however, seemed unfazed by the collision. But before he could say anything, Kazuha decided that she'd had enough. "Heiji, geez, you win already!" Kazuha huffed angrily. "Now take it off!"

He stared at her blankly, his smile fading in record time.

"Heiji," she repeated angrily. "Take. It. Off." She rattled the cuff around her wrist.

Suddenly, he seemed very taken by a spot on the wall.

"…where's the key?" she demanded. Her father was a police officer—he had a pair of handcuffs, too. She knew that you took handcuffs off by unlocking them with a key. So all Heiji had to do was produce the key and she was home-free.

Literally—she was going to sprint for freedom and not stop until she got home.

She waited. And waited.

Heiji didn't move.

After a moment, it clicked. "…you do have the key, don't you?" she asked in a flat, even voice.

Heiji cringed; a calm voice was more dangerous than screaming. "Ummm…oops?"

Kazuha stared at him for a long moment before asking, "When are your parents getting home?"

"Not for another couple hours."

He'd expected a lot of things—anger, rage, fury, and/or the sound of his head breaking (not necessarily in that order). But he wasn't quite prepared for her to plop down on the top step of the staircase and burst into tears. Granted, with them chained together he was pulled to sit down next to her.

"I want it off!" she hiccupped. "I wanna go home!"

Heiji stared helplessly—it seemed that once again, he had managed to massively screw things up. "Kazuha…I'm sorry." She didn't seem to hear him, so he sat quietly beside her for a moment before reaching up awkwardly with his free arm to reach across her in a half-hearted hug.

She started to push him away, then seemed to decide against it for some reason. Instead, she leaned her head on his shoulder, unknowingly sending him straight to the verge of spontaneous combustion. But he didn't move; he just let her…snuggle up…to him…

Girls were WEIRD.

"You really truly forgot about the key?" Kazuha asked after quite some time had passed.

"Ummm…I don't think there is a key, actually," he replied quietly.

Kazuha stood up suddenly, nearing yanking his arm off in the process. "Maybe we can get it off or something!" She started down the stairs, pulling him behind her as she raced into the kitchen.

When Heiji's parents arrived home an hour later, they found quite a sight sitting in their kitchen: their son and his best friend were handcuffed together and staring mournfully at the metal chain that had joined them at the wrist.

And even Heizo had to bite back a chuckle when Kazuha explained that they'd tried to get it off with a pair of scissors, a knife, and a hammer. Still, he went and found an appropriate tool and cut the chain, separating them, before going about removing the individual cuffs.

Since they were now in pieces, nobody protested when Kazuha asked if she could have them.

Heiji just shrugged it off as another sign of girly weirdness.

It wasn't until a few years later that Kazuha gave him a present…

_**-o-**_

"Heiji!" Kazuha called as he was getting up from their comfortable position on the couch. "Do you have your omamori?"

He executed a perfect teenaged eye-roll (par for the seventeen-year-old course) and sighed, "Yes, I have it. Ahou." And he was out the door without another word.

She frowned at the use of their customary nickname, then smiled and reached up to wrap her fingers around her own omamori. They weren't big or fancy, but they were something that would always keep them connected, just like the metal pieces tucked inside them.

* * *

**PS.** _Why hadn't I done this concept earlier? It's a huge part of the Heiji/Kazuha relationship, honestly! I am what is stupid, apparently…but anyway, hope you enjoyed it. Almost done, can you believe it? Whoo! Thanks for reading, all. Much love!_


	28. Beaches

**Title:** Beaches  
**Fandom:** Detective Conan  
**Theme: **#9—footsteps  
**Pairing:** Hattori Heiji/Toyama Kazuha  
**Rating:** PG  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Detective Conan or any related characters. They belong to Gosho Aoyama. I simply throw fruit at them, take pictures, and call it modern art. Critics love me.  
**Summary:** If your love is a grain of sand…

* * *

There were few things more lovely, Kazuha privately thought, than sitting on the beach and watching the sun set over the ocean. The water, such a beautiful blue by day, was dyed orange and yellow in honor of one of Mother Nature's most illustrious light shows.

Heiji had surprised her by shyly suggesting that they go watch the sunset on the beach. He had seemed so surprised when she had so readily accepted. But perhaps it had emboldened him a bit—he was still so shy about things, but after they'd chosen a place to sit in the sand for their viewing, he had somehow summoned up the nerve to lean forward and wrap both his arms around her shoulders. It had startled her, but she had almost immediately leaned back against him, relaxing into that embrace.

For most of the day, she had worn her hair back in its usual style. Ponytails were easy to handle, and kept her hair out of her way. But as they'd walked out here, she had pulled the tie from her hair on a whim. Running her fingers through it had smoothed it down considerably.

She knew he liked it when she wore her hair down; he had said as much.

It was calm. Peaceful. A perfectly lovely end to a perfectly lovely day.

"What're you thinking about?" Heiji asked quietly, interrupting her thoughts.

"The sand," she replied just as softly.

"What about it?"

Kazuha smiled, closed her eyes, and leaned back into his embrace. Most of the time he was a complete ahou, but every once in a while he could be so sweet… "If your love is a grain of sand, then mine is a universe of beaches," she whispered.

She couldn't see him, but she could practically feel his smile. His arms tightened around her ever so slightly before releasing her. She instinctively straightened when she felt him move; he climbed to his feet and dusted himself off before offering her a hand up. "C'mon—it's almost night. We should get back before dark, or else our parents will flip."

"Yeah, you're right," she nodded, reaching up to accept the proffered assistance. Once back on her feet, she quickly wiped herself free of sand. "Okay. Let's go." She felt herself blush, though, when he reached up with one hand to brush an errant strand of long hair back from her face.

They strolled together, hand in hand, back towards the hotel. The setting sun served as their backdrop, and two sets of footprints were left, side by side, in the sand to mark their path.

* * *

**PS.** _The quote "If your love is a grain of sand, then mine is a universe of beaches" is from **The Princess Bride.** It is one of my all-time favorite lines. A nice short little fluff-fic that TOTALLY HAD A PLOT I SWEAR. Hope you all enjoyed it, and I hope you'll all come around for the last TWO!_

_Thanks for reading, all. Much love!_


	29. Lost and Found

**Title:** Lost and Found  
**Fandom:** Detective Conan  
**Theme: **#16—think of me and I'll be there  
**Pairing:** Hattori Heiji/Toyama Kazuha  
**Rating:** PG  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Detective Conan or any related characters. They belong to Gosho Aoyama. I simply throw fruit at them, take pictures, and call it modern art. Critics love me.  
**Summary:** It was the middle of the night, and there was someone in the house.

* * *

Kazuha wished it wasn't such a clear night—if anything, she wished for a storm. It would be a lot easier if she had something else to focus on. Thunder and lightning might not have been ideal distractions, but at least it would be something. Unfortunately, Mother Nature wasn't paying any attention to her need for distraction, and so brought forth a beautiful night.

She had been tossing and turning for almost two hours now, trying to fall asleep and drift off to Dreamland, where hopefully her thoughts would be on an entirely different topic than they were now.

In all honesty, she would have given just about anything to be able to think about any topic other than Heiji. But everything seemed to be against her on this particular evening, which meant that her thoughts stayed firmly focused on the dark-skinned ahou.

…who had been missing for several weeks now.

Initially, it seemed quite typical of Heiji. He just up and vanished without a word to anyone. No note, no phone call. He just walked out of the house one day and didn't come back. But when the hours turned to days, the rolled eyes of annoyance turned to wide eyes of alarm and tearful eyes of worry. And still no word; he hadn't made contact with anyone.

She knew she was thinking about things too much—thinking about _him_ too much, to be perfectly honest—but in the end, she always inevitably reached the same conclusion.

Heiji was gone.

And she missed him.

That was really what it boiled down to: she missed her best friend. She missed the daily walks to school, the daily walks home, and the arguments that plagued both. She missed calling him 'ahou' and having him call her 'ahou' in return—it was their little ritual, no matter how strange. But most of all, she missed having someone to talk to. In spite of all the oddities that plagued their decidedly-unique relationship, he was the person she could talk to about almost anything.

In no way, shape, or form did she miss him in any kind of romantic context. Nuh-uh, no way, no how, nope nope nope, denied.

Sighing, she rolled over and pulled the blanket up to her chin. She needed to stop thinking so much and just get some sleep—mulling over it like this wouldn't make him magically reappear. She really needed to stop doing this to herself. She closed her eyes with every intention of falling asleep.

_CREAK._

Her eyes snapped open, and she sat up in bed, now fully awake and fully alert.

_THUMP._

There—another noise. Kazuha swallowed hard, suddenly very nervous.

It was the middle of the night. She was all alone here.

And there was someone in the house.

Slowly, Kazuha pushed the bedclothes aside and crept out of bed. If there was an intruder, she certainly didn't want to alert them to her presence. Carefully, she tiptoed across the room and put her ear to the door. Now she heard nothing—but she knew she hadn't imagined it.

She was going to go downstairs and check it out. After all, she was an aikido champion! She could take care of herself—if there was someone waiting for her, she would just have to floor them with her bare hands and then call the police. It was dangerous, but it was also better than sitting around and waiting for…whoever it was to leave.

Kazuha turned the knob carefully and eased the door open without a sound. Her bare feet were silent as she inched down the hallway. Now that she was out here, she could hear the movement below much more clearly. There was no doubt about it: someone was creeping around in her house. And with her father not home…

She slipped down the stairs, one slow step at a time, until her feet brushed against the rug at the bottom of the stairwell. The noise of the intruder's movement was just around the corner, near the living room. Her muscles were already instinctively tightening to be battle-ready if necessary.

With the quiet and stealth of a stalking cat, she crept around the corner to find herself staring at the intruder's back. In the darkness, she could clearly see the person's outline—it looked like he (she assumed it was a he) had a hood over his head, and had a bag slung over his shoulder. He was standing in the doorway between the living room and the hallway, seemingly just leaning against the doorframe.

Clenching her hands into fists, she took a deep breath. "Don't move—just put your hands where I can see them," she hissed through the darkness; she was only mildly surprised when he raised his hands up to the level of his head. "I'm a martial arts champion, and I will fight you." She inched over and flipped on the lights. Her initial impression was correct: he did have a backpack, and he was wearing a black sweatshirt with the hood up. "Now turn around slowly and take your hood off."

A strange thought occurred to her as the person started turning around. If this was a horror movie, the guy would turn out to be a lunatic with a chainsaw or something! But…if it were, say, a romantic-comedy, then it should be Heiji standing there, finally back after so long…so she could kill him for making her worry like that.

The person was facing her now, and one hand lifted to push the hood of his sweatshirt back. At last, she could see his face.

…well, it wasn't Heiji.

And unless he had the world's smallest chainsaw stowed away in that backpack of his, she wasn't going to find herself stuck in _The Texas Chainsaw Massacre_ anytime soon. That was a relief.

But that didn't change the fact that she had never seen this man before. He was a complete stranger. So they stood there for what felt like an eternity and a half, giving each other identical deer-in-the-headlights looks. Neither moved.

Then he bolted.

Kazuha reacted on instinct alone. He was fast, but she wasn't an aikido champion for nothing. She managed to hook her foot around his ankle to trip him up. It was enough—he went crashing to the floor. Kazuha lunged with intent to pounce and pin him; she just needed to disable him for a few minutes so she could call the police.

Again, she was startled at how fast this guy was. She barely had time to register that his bag was swinging at her head before she felt the impact, saw stars, and tumbled to the ground herself. It felt like he either had a brick or several dictionaries in there! Her head smacked hard against the floor, leaving her disoriented and completely defenseless.

The intruder got up first.

Kazuha could sense him standing over her; she could hear him breathing. And for whatever reason, she couldn't get herself to move. Time seemed to stand still as she waited to see what he would do.

And then everything started happening at once. Her rebellious muscles finally snapped into action in the same instant that he took off running towards the front door. Kazuha was on her feet in a heartbeat and tearing after him—he was going to get away…

The front door opened. But the intruder wasn't close enough to have done it…

She heard a shout of surprise, and saw the intruder's feet leave the ground and fly up over his head. He hit the floor with a loud THUD and lay, groaning but otherwise completely unmoving.

Kazuha stopped dead in her tracks and tried to catch her breath while she stared. At the intruder, now prone on the floor in an echo of her position from only seconds ago. At the open doorway. And most importantly, at the person standing _in_ the open doorway.

That last was easily the most startling.

"What in the world are you doing, ahou?" Hattori Heiji asked casually.

Kazuha gaped at him for another long moment…before vaulting at him. She jumped over the semi-conscious burglar on the floor and threw herself at him. Strangely enough, he seemed to have been expecting such a move. He dropped the bag from his shoulder and caught her easily, stumbling back a few steps onto the front porch.

She was alternating between crying and yelling, gushing and swearing, hugging him and punching him. He took it all more or less in stride, chuckling at her threats. "So…you missed me?"

She growled and punched him hard on the arm before throwing her arms around him for another hug. "Ahou…where the hell have you been? You had me worried sick—and your parents! They're going to kill you unless you've got a really good explanation for this!"

His smile faltered a little before fading completely. "It's…complicated."

"Tell me," she demanded.

"Well, I…it's…" he wavered before sighing. "Look, I came here because I thought you should have the whole story before it breaks in the newspapers tomorrow morning. So…here. Let's talk."

Kazuha sat quietly and listened to an unbelievable story—of an enormous crime syndicate cloaked in black, a drug that could shrink an adult to a child, and the realization that they were in danger. He ran to protect all of them—himself and everyone around him. The less everyone knew, the healthier they would stay. Or so he hoped.

When the police arrived a short while later to pick up the intruder, they found him being restrained by two teenagers via the rather base method of sitting on the man's back. The two were talking amiably, his arm slung casually around her shoulders. Most startling was the person himself: the son of Hattori Heizo, missing for many weeks now.

But when asked if he'd contacted his parents, he simply replied, "This was more important." As he spoke, he glanced over his shoulder at Kazuha and grinned. She felt herself go red at the implication.

So maybe they hadn't found each other quite yet.

But they were definitely getting warmer.

* * *

**PS.** _I know this bears some similarities to my first fic for Shinichi and Ran's 30 Kisses…but when I had the idea originally, it was with Heiji and Kazuha in this fashion. And then it wouldn't leave me alone. And then I played with the idea to try and make it different. I think it worked. So here it is. Only one left, can you believe it? CUE THE DANCE OF HAPPY!! Hope you'll all come around to check out the last one as well._

_Thanks for reading, all. Much love!_


	30. The Safest Place I Know

**Title:** The Safest Place I Know  
**Fandom:** Detective Conan  
**Theme: **#30—hug!  
**Pairing:** Hattori Heiji/Toyama Kazuha  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Detective Conan or any related characters. They belong to Gosho Aoyama. I simply throw fruit at them, take pictures, and call it modern art. Critics love me.  
**Summary:** She hit rock bottom and tried to burn her bridges. He followed her with a fire hose.

* * *

The first time they had hugged, Kazuha had hugged him.

It was her birthday, and she was a very grown-up young lady of six years old. Her father had thrown her a party in her honor, and they had invited all the children from their class at school for an afternoon of fun and games.

And of course, Heiji had been there, and they had managed to have an argument in the middle of the party that resulted in him storming off and Kazuha pouting over by the cake.

When the time came to open presents, Heiji had reappeared, holding a large green gift-bag. "Here," he muttered, shoving it at her. "This is for you. Hope you like it. Happy birthday." Then he had stepped back and watched, waiting expectantly for her to open it.

While the rest of their class looked on eagerly, she opened the bag and dug through the white tissue paper to find her prize. And she had squealed loudly as she pulled out the teddy bear—its fur was a light brown color, and it had a green ribbon tied around its neck.

Green was her favorite color, after all.

She had dropped the bag and the teddy bear and jumped at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. "Thank you!" she had cheered, while he went all red and tried desperately to pry her off of him. But it was a moot point; she belatedly realized that she had dropped her new teddy bear in the grass, and panicked at the thought of it getting dirty. But that was the first time either of them experienced the feel of the other's arms. It would not be the last—most frequently, though, it was her hugging him while he blushed or yelled.

It was only later that she named the bear. After the party was over (and Heiji had managed to start another fight just before he left), she sat on her bed in her room, surrounded by the wonderful things she had gotten as presents, and named her teddy bear in honor of her stupid best friend.

Ahou. That was the bear's name.

It would sit on her bed for many years to come, even through high school and graduation…

_**-o-**_

"Why are you leaving?" Heiji asked quietly.

She nearly jumped at the sound of his voice; she hadn't heard him come in. But there he was, standing in the doorway of her room, watching her pack. She wondered how long he had been there. "God, Heiji, don't sneak up on me like that!" She glared at him and returned to placing folded shirts neatly into the open suitcase on her bed.

He took two steps into the room and remained silent for another few seconds, watching her, before he repeated his question in that same odd little voice. "Why are you leaving?"

Kazuha straightened up and turned to face him fully. In that second, she memorized him, wanting to always remember him exactly as he looked at that moment: jeans, a black shirt, and a dark blue zip-front hoodie, with his hands shoved casually into his pockets and his trademark cap squarely on his head. "Because I want to travel. I want to go places and see the world before I have to settle down and get married and provide my father with grandchildren to amuse him in his old age."

Heiji simply stared at her. It was almost unnerving, to see the usually-volatile teenager so solemn. As the tension mounted, he turned his head and looked down at her bed. To her surprise, he actually smiled. "I can't believe you still have this old thing," he commented, reaching down to pick up the teddy bear sitting on her pillow. He'd noticed it before, of course, but every once in a while he would comment about the fact that she'd held onto it for so long.

"Why wouldn't I have it?" she retorted.

"It just seems dumb to hang onto something for this long," he commented in reply.

"Ahou," she said automatically. But she smiled then. "Why don't you keep it?"

He looked startled. "No way."

"I mean it—take it. Something to remember me by."

"No."

She was startled when he walked towards her and pressed the teddy bear into her hands. "You need to take it with you. I gave it to you, ahou. It's yours." And then he stepped back, looking faintly embarrassed at his own display.

Kazuha looked down at the bear and back up at him. "Thank you."

_**-o-**_

"Well…I guess this is it," Kazuha said softly.

"I guess so," he replied. He fidgeted a bit before adding in a whisper, "I'll…miss you. Ahou."

That was almost enough to make her forget about America and just throw herself into his arms in the hopes that he would catch her and not let go. But…no. It was wouldn't do any good, she told herself for the umpteenth time. It was time to let go of that dream and face the cold of reality.

But she did loosen her self-restraints to hold her arms out to him for a goodbye hug. He walked into it willingly and it felt amazing. Far too soon, she had to release him, and he stepped back. It was time for her to leave—they had called for boarding.

"Well, I…" Heiji faltered and sighed. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

"You too," she smiled and hoped that it looked more real than it felt. "Goodbye, Heiji."

And she was gone, walking down the ramp and boarding the plane. She had a window seat, and as they were getting ready to start taxiing she glanced out the window back towards the terminal. She saw Heiji standing there at the window, watching the plane.

Kazuha took that moment to memorize him.

And then she pulled the shade and sat back as they prepared for takeoff.

She had no way of knowing that Heiji stood there long after the plane had taken flight.

And she had no way of knowing that it would be well over a year before she saw him again.

_**-o--**_

It was raining when they landed in Osaka.

Kazuha bolted from the airport terminal and to the street, standing in the rain until she finally flagged down a taxi. Giving the driver an address, she slumped over in the backseat, clinging to her one small bag as though it were a lifeline. She said nothing, but stared at the back of the driver's seat as the streetlights flickered past the windows, their light casting a yellow glare across the rain on the window.

What was she doing? This was insanity. She had essentially jumped on a plane on a whim and flown to the other side of the world to run to someone she hadn't let herself see in months and months. She had spoken to him briefly on the phone—that was the only contact she'd had with him, and only when he had called her. His letters had gone unanswered, sitting in a box in her nightstand. But they had been read many, many times, and no few bore the stains of tears she hadn't wanted to shed.

"_Why are you leaving?"_

He had asked her that.

"_Because I want to travel. I want to go places and see the world."_

That was her answer. And he had simply looked at her, looked through her…

…had he known she was lying?

She still didn't know what she was doing here. This was ludicrous.

There was no possible way that Heiji would be happy to see her. She half-wondered if he would slam the door in her face. She had cut those ties and left him behind, out of frustration and weariness and…was it fear that had ultimately sent her running off to America under the pretenses of wanting to travel? What was she afraid of?

She already knew, though. In the end, she knew.

All would be revealed when she got there, she supposed. For better or for worse.

Finally, the cab came to a stop. She paid the driver and got out. He drove off, leaving her standing there on the sidewalk, staring up at the brownstone building. One of his letters had spoken of moving out of his parents' house and into a new apartment, and had given this as the address.

Kazuha stood there for a long time in the rain, clutching her purse and bag and trying to figure out why she was doing this or what to say when she actually went up there. By the time she started to move towards the door, she was completely soaked.

She slipped inside and headed up to the second floor. She knew his apartment number by heart. After all, she had read that letter dozens and dozens of times, even though she had all of them memorized. Yet she would always return it to that box beside her bed without a reply.

Once she got to the right floor, it didn't take long at all to find the right door. She set her purse and bag down beside her and again, she stood in front of it for a long time.

Insanity. This was insanity. She should just turn around and go…

With a sudden burst of courage, she lifted one hand and knocked, and instantly regretted it.

"Coming!" a painfully familiar voice called from beyond that door.

That voice was enough to freeze her in her tracks. She couldn't move; she couldn't breathe.

All she could do was just stand there and wait. Wait to find out…

The door opened.

Heiji's eyes widened visibly and his jaw dropped in surprise at the sight of her. "Kazuha…"

It was only then that she realized how truly awful she looked. Her clothes were a mess, her hair was a nightmare, and she was drenched from head to toe. She felt pathetic.

"Heiji, I…" she tried to say something, but her throat seemed to clench shut, and she couldn't speak. Not that it really mattered—she didn't know what to say anyway. So she swallowed hard to try and clear that painful lump in her throat. It didn't work, and so she just stayed silent, feeling more and more like an idiot with each second that ticked by.

Trying to distract herself, she took a good look at him. He hadn't changed a bit in the months she'd been gone. And maybe it was irony or coincidence or just some imp of the perverse, but he was wearing the same outfit he had worn the night he had asked her why she was leaving. Jeans, a black shirt, and a blue zip-front sweatshirt.

"Kazuha, what are you doing here?" he asked, leaning against one side of the doorframe.

She was silent another few seconds before replying honestly, "I don't know."

Strange, though…he wasn't slamming the door in her face. He wasn't telling her to buzz off and go back to America. He wasn't shoving her out of his life the way she had tried to push him out of hers. He was just watching her with curiosity and…was that concern?

"Are you okay?" he finally asked.

Kazuha finally lifted her gaze to meet his squarely. His eyes hadn't changed a whit either. Still the same amazing shade of green. Still so deep. Still looking right through her. Just like he always had.

She didn't realize she was crying until she saw his eyes widen and heard the first sob rise out of her own throat. It was a horrible, pathetic sound—just when she thought she couldn't be any more pitiful, she had to go and start crying.

Before she could regain any sort of control over herself, words starting pouring out of her mouth, and she was powerless to stop them. "I'm sorry…" she heard herself whisper; it was like she was watching someone else. "I'm so sorry…I missed you and I screwed up and you have every right to hate me and tell me you never want to see me again…I was so stupid…" On and on, the torrent of words poured.

Kazuha wanted to die on the spot. She dropped her face into her hands and just cried.

And through the whole outburst, Heiji just stood there. Watching. Listening.

After what felt like years, he moved. He pushed away from the doorframe and stepped towards her, holding one arm out towards her. "Kazuha," he said softly, but firmly. "Come here."

She didn't need to be told twice; she walked into him and let him grab her arm and pull her inside. She kept her face hidden in her hands, not daring to look at him. He pushed the door closed behind her with his free hand before looping that arm around her waist; his other arm slid around her shoulders.

They stood like that for a long time, just inside the front door of his apartment. It seemed that she would never be able to stop crying…and she hadn't even told him anything yet. The reason why she had stumbled onto his doorstep after all this time…he would ask eventually, but for now…

When he moved, he kept his arms around her to pull her along with him. She didn't pay too much attention to where they were going—she was too exhausted to have resisted, even if she had wanted to. So when he leaned forward to send her backwards to the bed (his bed, she noted on some level), she accepted the gesture passively and let him pull the comforter up around her.

"Go to sleep," he said softly. "You'll feel better. It'll be okay."

She hiccupped and reached for his hand. "Don't go…" the words sounded frightfully hoarse to her own ears, but she had to say them anyway. "Please don't leave me alone…don't go…" She didn't want to be alone anymore. She didn't want him to leave her here.

He said nothing in reply. But he stayed right where he was.

As she finally fell asleep, Kazuha felt him move. The other side of the bed shifted as he lay down beside her; his arm wrapped securely around her waist. And she slept, feeling safe for the first time in ages.

_**-o-**_

The next morning, Kazuha awoke to find herself in a place she did not recognize. More importantly—and more frighteningly—she was curled up in a bed. And she could feel someone lying next to her. She turned her head in horror, ready to scream—had she done something she shouldn't have?

…until she saw who was sprawled beside her, still sound asleep. The scream of alarm died in her throat, and she fell silent, just staring at the young man, warm and wonderful, alongside her as she remembered what had happened the night before.

They were both still clothed, though a bit rumpled from sleeping in their street-clothes. Kazuha was sure her hair was a disheveled mess, but…it really didn't seem to matter that much at the moment.

Still, as she watched him, her smile faded slightly. She had an awful lot of explaining to do about certain things. The previous evening was the safest and happiest she had felt in a long time. If he rejected her now…it might very well kill her. But she pushed that from her mind and contented herself with just watching him sleep and hoping silently that it wouldn't be the last time she would get to do so.

Far too soon for her liking, he opened his eyes. Bewilderment and alarm flashed across those green eyes before he recognized her and remembered what had happened. The confusion melted into a smile. "Mornin'," he half-yawned.

"Good morning, sunshine," she smiled back. It felt so strange to really smile like that, even when she knew that this little happiness could be snatched away from her in a heartbeat if he knew.

Heiji sat up and stretched his arms over his head. "How long've you been awake?"

"Not long," she said. "I didn't want to disturb you." She would have said more, but her stomach chose that moment to speak up and remind her that she was starved. And she also realized that she felt rather grimy. "Umm…how about breakfast? And maybe a shower?"

This seemed an acceptable plan to all parties involved.

Her departure from America had been so hasty that Kazuha had barely had the presence of mind to grab herself a change of clothes. And that's really all she had come here with—the contents of her purse (which wasn't much at this point) and a small bag with one clean set of clothing. She had slept in the clothes she had arrived there in the night before. She felt like a mess, and a glance in the bathroom mirror proved that to her eyes, she looked like one as well.

At her sheepish request, she found herself supplied with towels and free access to the bathroom, all of which she accepted gratefully. With the bathroom door locked securely behind her, she stripped off her old clothes and hopped in the shower.

It was amazing how just standing there, letting the hot water run over her could make her feel human again. She stood there, motionless, for several minutes, just relaxing and not-thinking before she set about locating the shampoo and starting to scrub herself down. Fifteen minutes later, she turned off the water and reached for the towels.

A few minutes later she emerged, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt with her hair wrapped up in a towel. Heiji took his turn in the now-vacant bathroom; he took less time than she had.

Toast made for a simple, yet satisfying breakfast. Kazuha felt the best she had in a long time, really. She even jumped up to make quick work of the few dishes they'd used in their morning meal, humming to herself. She paused with her glass in her hand, and decided to take one last drink before she washed it and put it away.

Heiji had been watching her all morning with relatively few words. Now he spoke up. "Kazuha?"

"Hmm?" she murmured around a mouthful of orange juice.

"…why are you here?"

She jumped at the question and nearly sprayed the juice across the room. Instead, she managed to only dump half of it on her shirt. Now her hands were shaking and she was nervous and cursing under her breath at her own stupidity. Thirty seconds ago, she had felt alive. Now she wanted to curl up in a hole somewhere and disappear.

"Ahou," she heard him mutter. He stepped back into his bedroom while she found a towel and started mopping up. By the time she'd finished, he was already standing there with something white in his hands. "Here. It'll be huge on you, but it doesn't have orange juice all over it."

She took as long as possible changing shirts. The one he had given her was a plain white button-up shirt. She noticed that it smelled like him, and she liked that. Now if only she didn't have to face him…

But it was inevitable.

Finally, she came back out and found him waiting for her in the living room. He was sitting on the couch, and he looked up at her when she walked in. "Better?" he asked. When she nodded, he stood up and gestured for her to have a seat; she did. "So what's this all about? Didn't you like it in America?"

"…not really," she said, looking down at the floor.

"If you didn't like it there, why didn't you come back sooner?"

"There are a few reasons. I'd rather not go into it."

"So why'd you come back now?"

Kazuha swallowed hard and said in a strained voice, "I made a big mistake."

She could feel his surprise. "What do you mean? What did you do?"

"I screwed up," she went on. It hurt to say it…but he deserved the truth, before anything else happened. "Heiji, I…met someone there. And I dated him for a while. And…" she swallowed hard and forced herself to continue, "…it turned out really bad."

"…how so?" he asked in a quiet voice. That was a dangerous, dangerous sign.

She looked up at him, just to see exactly how he was reacting, and found herself unable to look away, no matter how much she wanted to. "I…did something stupid." She stopped there, leaving it to him to figure out the true meaning behind that statement.

His eyes widened as he realized exactly what she meant. And there was no way for her to miss the flicker of anger and hurt that flashed across his eyes at the comprehension. "Kazuha…"

The phone rang, interrupting the awkward moment. Heiji lingered, looking at her for a second longer before turning away to answer it. Kazuha didn't move at all, dropping her gaze downward, not even bothering to listen to his end of the short conversation.

A moment later, he hung up and turned back to her, looking faintly sheepish. "The police need my help with a case," he told her—almost apologetically. "A murder. I have to go check it out. Will you be okay by yourself for a while?"

She didn't want him to go. She'd had enough of sitting alone in an apartment. But…this was Heiji's passion, not to mention his livelihood. She refused to tell him not to go—she was selfish enough as it was without doing something like that, although she had the impression that if she'd said the word, he would have stayed home. Instead, she smiled. "It's fine."

He seemed relieved, somehow. "Great. I'll be back as soon as I can." He hesitated for a moment, as though there was something else he wanted to say. In the end, he seemed to decide against it, and headed for the door. "Later!" He was all smiles and happiness, and she knew it all to be an act.

"Bye!" she waved with a lot more cheer than she actually felt. When the door closed, her smile faded into a far more thoughtful expression. She was alone, and that meant that she could take a bit of a look around now—not that she would snoop through anything, but she realized that all things considered, she hadn't had the luxury of taking a tour of the place. And besides, it could prove a very worthy distraction at a time when that's what she really needed most.

There wasn't really a ton to see, but it was something. The apartment was of a decent size, and perfectly suitable for a young bachelor. A nice kitchen (though she privately wondered if he actually used anything in it besides the microwave), a neatly-furnished living room with a sizable window to let in plenty of the late afternoon sunlight, and a cozy bedroom decorated in green and white. It was in the bedroom doorway that she paused and looked into the room, contemplating. Remembering.

She had woken up there in the latest hours of the morning, feeling truly safe and truly protected, two sensations she had desperately missed in the past months. Well…okay, there had been that initial panic of finding herself in a strange bed. But once she had realized whose arms were around her…it was the happiest she had felt in a very long time.

Yet it all seemed so short-lived.

Kazuha had known he would ask. How could he not? After over a year's absence, she just appeared on his doorstep, an utter mess. He had been kind, but sooner or later he was bound to want an explanation, and he certainly was entitled to one. She hadn't wanted to tell him, even though she knew she really had to. There was no other real cause behind her breakdown. But she had known…

The look on his face when he realized what she was trying so hard _not_ to tell him…it broke her heart to even think of it. The way pain had flickered across his eyes before he shuttered his expression to keep her shut out of his real thoughts and real feelings…she wanted to disappear.

She closed her eyes and turned away from the room to wander back into the living room, where there were numerous pictures in frames on a table. There were photos of his parents, friends…and one of her and him at their high school graduation, well over a year prior. They looked happy together, though she could easily see the shadows around the edges of her eyes. Kazuha picked up that picture. The frame was worn and faded, as though it had been picked up and handled with great frequency.

Sighing, she set it back down. She was a fool, and she knew she'd hurt him. But maybe…maybe there was a way to salvage things between them. Maybe they could rebuild their friendship—it would never be the same as it was in the old days, but…they could piece it back together somehow, couldn't they? Trust could be earned. After all, if Heiji had kept that photograph of them and still looked at it…and the way he had just welcomed her into his home without any reason to other than the fact that he still cared…it meant there was a chance, wasn't there?

Feeling better than she had in quite a long time, she let herself fall back onto the couch. When he got back from his case…then they could talk this out and figure things out between them. It would be okay, she told herself, as soon as he got home.

But time has a way of planting and tending the seeds of doubt until they grow into full-fledged trees. And as time ticked by, Kazuha couldn't help but think that Heiji had been gone for quite a long time.

Should it really take him this long to solve a case? Must have been a really tough one.

Or maybe…maybe he had already solved the case and just hadn't made it home yet?

…or maybe he had stopped somewhere on the way?

…or maybe he was avoiding coming home?

So many maybes, so few of them happy…

Kazuha sighed and looked up at the clock for the umpteenth time. It was starting to get late, and the sky outside was just starting to grow dark. Where in the name of Ellery Queen was that boy?

Her resolve was melting like ice cream in the sun. She was starting to wonder if maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. Maybe coming here in the first place hadn't been a very good idea…

Kazuha stood up. She was freaking herself out, and it was only making things worse. Plus, her stomach was speaking up to remind her that she hadn't eaten in a while. Maybe some food would help calm her down. She headed to the kitchen.

There was a good amount of food in the refrigerator, and it almost surprised her. Had Heiji actually learned how to cook? Before, he had barely been able to work a stove. Sure, he could boil water…but when things were floating in it cooking, he had a tendency to get a bit confused. She smiled slightly at a few memories along that vein before resuming her hunt for food.

But instead, she found something else—something far more interesting and useful, given her current state of mind. Had she really given it any thought, she would have known that this was a very bad idea and that it would just make things worse…

But overall, Kazuha just didn't care.

_**-o-**_

That case had been unusually tricky, Heiji reflected. He had almost missed spotting the crucial clue that cracked the murder case wide open. Once he had found that, it was remarkably simple to piece the rest of the crime together.

But he was thinking now—during the reveal, the guilty man had raged against his victim. He had loved her, he said, and she had played him for all he was worth. That was why he had killed her. But even after everything he swore she had done to him and put him through…he still loved her.

It all rang painfully close to home for Heiji.

Having Kazuha drop back into his life like that…he still couldn't believe that she was here and safe and not dead because goodness knew that the ahou was incapable of taking care of herself…he shook his head at himself. Something about her tended to bring out his inner asshole, he had noticed. But more importantly, he shouldn't be thinking like that. All things considered…

He really couldn't wait to get home. It had been tough to keep himself focused during the case; his thoughts kept drifting towards a ponytail and pretty green eyes. And now, all he really wanted to do was get home and talk to Kazuha and get this all worked out. The truth was that he was hoping he could convince her to stay in Japan at the very least…if not talk her into staying right there with him.

Strange how a year without hearing her call him 'ahou' could clear up so much for him.

He quickened his pace as his apartment building came into sight—one of the officers had given him a lift partway home, but he had opted to walk the rest of the way there. It cleared his head and gave him a chance to think about what exactly he was going to say to her.

Finding out what had happened to her with that guy in America…it made Heiji's blood boil. He wanted to get that guy and make him pay—hadn't that bastard realized what a good thing he had? And he had thrown it away. Although…Heiji hated himself for thinking such a thought, but in a roundabout way, that guy was the reason Kazuha had come back. In a twisted way, he almost owed the nameless man a thank you for that…but if their paths ever crossed, however unlikely, that guy was in trouble. Big time.

Heiji had tried not to let her see that the idea of it all hurt him, but he knew she had seen it. Even after all this time, she still had a knack for seeing right through him at the most inopportune moments. He could only hope that she recognized that he was more angry and upset by the situation, and not with her specifically. The whole thing just had him up in arms.

But it would be okay, he decided as he entered the building and jogged up the stairs to his apartment. Things were going to be just fine. They just had to talk it out, and they would be great.

When he opened the door, though, he found the place dark and Kazuha not in immediate sight. And he could smell something. It was familiar, but for some reason at that moment he could not place it. What was that smell?

But more importantly, where was Kazuha? He felt a clench of fear—had she left? No…she had said she would hang out here. She wouldn't have…would she? "Kazuha?" he called out into the seemingly-empty apartment, hoping and praying for a response.

He got one—a giggle from the vicinity of the bedroom door. A second later, Kazuha appeared. She was grinning at him, and looked…not quite like herself somehow. "Heiji!" she said brightly.

The slurs of her speech jogged his brain, and he finally recognized the smell.

Alcohol.

And that led him to the terrible, inevitable conclusion.

"Kazuha?" he walked towards her, and his sense of smell confirmed it—didn't have to be a detective to pick up the clue and solve that particular mystery. "Kazuha…you're drunk!"

She giggled again and stumbled forward, falling right against him. Instinctively he caught her. "Kazuha, what are you—"

He was cut off when she suddenly rose up on her tiptoes…and kissed him.

Hard.

Full on the lips.

Heiji froze.

And both her arms came around his neck, so even if he had the presence of mind to do so, he couldn't have pulled away.

Surges of every imaginable emotion lanced through him as he smelled booze and tasted Kazuha. He was shocked by the move, repulsed by the alcohol, attracted by her boldness…and she had always been a very pretty girl…

Instinct kicked in, and instinct said to kiss her back.

His own arms moved now to wrap around her, pressing her back against the wall. The moment wasn't sweet or romantic or loving—it was hot, passionate, almost animalistic, a surrender to the most basic of primal urges that swallowed reason and left only desire.

It wasn't until he felt her hands slide under his shirt that he let reality clock back in from its coffee break. This was wrong. No matter how right it felt to have her in his arms…no matter how good it felt to have her lips pressed against his…no matter how much either of them wanted this…she was drunk. Very drunk, if his guess was right. And that negated everything else.

It took an exercise of iron will, but somehow he forced himself to push away. He grabbed her shoulders and shoved her back against the wall, keeping her at arm's length. He was gasping for air by now, and so was she, and she looked confused by his sudden rejection. "Heiji?" she murmured.

"This is wrong," he breathed.

"But—"

"You're drunk," he cut her off. "I'm not going to take advantage of you like this." He skillfully ignored that part of him that was telling him to stop worrying and just finish what he'd started. But that would destroy everything.

"Don' care," she slurred. "I wan' you." She was trying to reach for him again.

"No," he repeated. He pulled away. "Go to bed."

Now she looked hurt and lost, like a little girl. "Coward," she whispered while a tear slipped down her cheek. "You're a liar."

Heiji grabbed her arm and pulled her to the bedroom. "Go to bed and sleep this off, and we'll talk in the morning." She looked ready to either cry in earnest or jump at him again, neither of which he felt he could handle at this point. If she lunged…he might not be able to resist. Making a quick, difficult decision, he all but bolted from the room, closing the door behind him.

Heiji fell asleep on the couch that night, listening to Kazuha cry on the other side of the wall and wondering what he would have done if she had been sober. He knew he had done the right thing…but it didn't make it any easier when he thought about where he could be right now, even with the inevitable consequences that would come with the sunrise and the end of the dream.

None of it made the ache in his chest go away.

_**-o-**_

Kazuha awoke the next morning to the sun in her eyes and the jackhammers drilling at the inside of her skull. She had the worst headache ever. She let out a tiny cry and rolled over, burying herself under the comforter to protect herself from the evil, evil sunlight. She lay there for a long time, waiting for the migraine to recede.

Once the pain started to subside, she tried to think, though it was proving a difficult task. She recognized the green and white comforter as Heiji's, and knew herself to still be in his apartment. But where was he, and why was she—

The events of the previous evening came rushing back to her, and she sat upright in bed. The move inadvertently set the war-drums pounding in her head again, but overall it couldn't possibly have made her feel any worse. She felt sick to her stomach.

She remembered feeling rather elated about deciding that she would talk things out with Heiji, but then getting nervous as she waited for him to get home from his case. She recalled finding that bottle in the refrigerator, and deciding that it would be a good idea for her to relax a bit. But somehow, "relaxation" had gotten swept up and lost in "wow, I feel a lot better," and she had gone way beyond any semblance of a limit. By the time Heiji had gotten home, the world had felt very fuzzy and she had been feeling very bold. And apparently, she was a very honest drunk.

When he had walked into the apartment…what was she thinking, throwing herself at him like that? He had to think her a complete tramp, especially after what she had told him about the mistakes that had brought her back! And then she had kissed him…

…but he had kissed her back, hadn't he?

Kazuha tried to think. Heiji _had_ kissed her back, and seemed receptive enough to her drunken advances…but then he had pushed her away and stopped it because he realized that that's just what they were: drunken advances.

"_I'm not going to take advantage of you like this," _he had told her. And then he had left her in here alone to cry and sleep it off with a promise that they would talk in the morning.

Well, it was morning now. So where was Heiji?

She carefully climbed out of bed and padded to the door, making no noise in her bare feet. She listened, heard nothing on the other side of the wall, and carefully eased the door open. She tiptoed out into the living room and saw no one. "…Heiji?"

No reply.

A glance at the front door proved that a pair of his shoes were missing. So he wasn't here—he'd left. Gone out while she was still asleep.

Kazuha walked over to the couch and dropped onto it without concern for the piece of furniture. All the worst possible scenarios were flashing through her mind—most prevalently, the idea that he was just trying to get away from her after her awful display the night before. She ignored the little voice in her head that suggested he had simply gotten called out on a case or something as mundane.

She couldn't even cry anymore as she stood up again and went to find her bag, her mind made up. She quickly gathered her few belongings and slipped on her shoes. She paused long enough to leave a note on the counter and take one last look at the apartment before leaving. She went down the stairs and out to the sidewalk, where she hailed a cab. When she climbed in, the driver asked her where she was going.

She took one last look at the building before replying, "The airport."

Kazuha had no way of knowing that twenty minutes later, Heiji came home with groceries to find Kazuha gone, the apartment empty, and a note waiting for him on the kitchen counter.

_Heiji,_

_I'm going back to America. I'm sorry._

_Love, Kazuha_

He stared at it for a good long minute, processing all the implications of that tiny little goodbye note. Then he whipped around, grabbed his keys, and sprinted out the door, leaving the groceries sitting, forgotten, on the kitchen table.

_**-o-**_

Two more people.

There were only two more people in front of her in line at the ticket counter. And Kazuha was getting very, very antsy. She wanted to get her ticket, get on the place, and get out of here. America really wasn't any better, but at least if she was there, she wouldn't have to face Heiji.

Heiji…

No. She wasn't going to think about it. She was trying desperately to forget her abhorrent behavior from the night before, though the murderous headache was making that rather difficult. She could only guess what he thought of her now. She blew it big time, and that was that.

The line shifted. Only one more person.

As she waited, she let her thoughts drift towards where she might go next. She was considering spending some time in Europe—she had heard that Germany was lovely, or perhaps Spain. She wasn't sure. Not that it mattered; she could just pack up and run with the wind, if she so chose.

It seemed like the person in line in front of her as having a problem of some sort. He was arguing with the woman behind the counter over something. It sounded like he was going to be there a while.

In spite of herself, she found herself wondering if Heiji had discovered her absence yet. Probably—he had to have come home by now and found her short note of explanation. She wondered how he had reacted—was he angry? Relieved? In the end, it really didn't matter. There was a pang of guilt there at just taking off without a word, but she kept telling herself that it was for the best. She was burning her bridges, and that was that.

It occurred to her as she waited that she was still wearing the shirt he had lent her—a plain white button-up shirt. She had cuffed the sleeves up to her elbows for comfort's sake. It smelled faintly of alcohol, a reminder of her stupidity from the night before. She would have to return this to him eventually. Perhaps she should mail it back to him.

Her thoughts kept drifting along those lines until finally the man in front of her seemed to resolve whatever problem he was having, and stepped aside. Finally, it was her turn.

She stepped up to the now-harried woman behind the counter and offered the best smile she could muster up—which really wasn't much, all things considered. "I need a one-way ticket—"

"Home," a voice cut her off as a tanned hand closed around her fingers on the counter. Kazuha spun around, already knowing exactly what she was going to see, and…

_Oh no…_

Heiji muttered a quick apology to the airline employee and grabbed Kazuha's bag out of her hand before he began dragging her away from the counter and towards the terminal exit. She tried to protest, but her voice wouldn't work right; attempts to wrestle her arm free were met by a grasp of iron.

He pulled her out to the parking lot, where a small car was waiting; she remembered him mentioning in one of his letters that he had acquired said automobile. He opened the back door and tossed her bag in before opening the driver's door and looking over the car roof at her. "Get in," he ordered flatly.

"No," she refused, trying to hold her ground in a battle she knew she had already lost.

"Get. In."

They just looked at each other for a long moment, a silent battle of wills.

Then, surprisingly, Heiji's expression softened. "Kazuha, get in the car." She hesitated…but obeyed. Heiji waited until she was inside and buckled in before climbing in himself and starting the engine.

The drive home was silent and tense; neither spoke. When they arrived at Heiji's apartment, Heiji went to his own bedroom while Kazuha locked herself in the bathroom for lack of any other place to go. This was his home, after all—she did not live here. Before, she had been allowed to stay here because of his generosity. Now, she felt like a prisoner in a home that was not her own.

The silence and the tension were almost unbearable. Things were going to come to a head very, very soon. And knowing both of them, the end result would be explosive.

_**-o-**_

"Here."

Kazuha had been sitting in a chair in the living room, staring out the window. When he spoke to her, she turned her head to find a mug of something steaming being offered to her; it smelled suspiciously like tea. She turned away in a silent refusal, but Heiji persisted gently. "You'll feel better. And you haven't eaten anything today, right?"

She was about to say no when she realized that her stomach was painfully empty. And though the initial smell had been revolting, the second whiff definitely had merit. With shaky hands, she reached up and wrapped her fingers around the warm ceramic. "Thank you…" she whispered softly before taking a sip. It warmed her from head to toe.

Heiji stood beside her chair and watched her. "Better?"

She nodded mutely.

"…we need to talk."

Kazuha closed her eyes. "Okay." This had to happen sooner or later.

He pulled a chair up to sit facing her, so they were knee-to-knee. He didn't speak right away, leaving her more time to feel self-conscious; she felt like a mess, and was still wearing that shirt of his.

"Let's start with the basic question. Why did you come back?" His tone was quiet, but kind.

He had asked that question once before, and she hadn't wanted to answer it, but…if there was ever a time to be honest, this was it. She knew that. Still, it was nearly impossible for her to open her mouth and force the words out. "I…was lonely. And I wanted to see you."

"If you wanted to see me, why were you avoiding me?"

"Scared, mostly."

"Of me?"

"Yes."

"Does this have anything to do with what you said when you…last night?" he wisely skirted the issue of the previous evening's drunken advances. It was embarrassing enough as it was—for both of them—without him mentioning it again.

Kazuha visibly winced at the recent memory, but tried to mask it by taking a long drink of tea. Even after she lowered the mug, she didn't meet his gaze again, nor did she speak or answer him.

Heiji sighed and changed the subject, even though that was the topic he most wanted to pursue. Still, there was time—he hoped. "What happened with that guy in America, exactly?"

"It was a mistake," she said softly. "A big, stupid mistake. I was lonely, and I think he saw it and sort of played on it. It was…flattering…to have someone paying attention to me like that. I really shouldn't have let it go on as long as I did—I wasn't really looking for a relationship or anything, but…I liked the attention, I guess. In the end…I just screwed up. I don't even know why I did…that. And then after it was over…" She felt herself wilt even further as she trailed off.

"…what happened?" he prodded.

She sighed. "That was the end of things."

"His call or yours?"

Kazuha didn't reply.

Heiji growled, and she sensed that he was angry. She wondered if he was angry with her for her indiscretion and betrayal, or if the nameless boy in America was the subject of his ire for using her like that and then tossing her aside so callously. And…why did she think of what she had done as a betrayal? It really wasn't—at least, not by the textbook definition. For it to be a betrayal, she would have to have been his in the first place. And she wasn't Heiji's. Not in the true sense, anyway.

Emotionally…that was another story.

But seeing the flash of pain and anger across his eyes when she told him of it that first morning…it felt like she had betrayed him. And that hurt.

"If you didn't like this guy that much," Heiji began slowly, and she felt that he was seriously reining in his temper, though his tone was harder than before, "then why the hell did you have anything to do with him in the first place?"

"I can't tell you that," she whispered.

"Why not?"

"Because you'll get angry and you'll tell me to leave," she said. The first blur of tears welled in her eyes against her will, and she hated herself for them. "You'll hate me."

"Kazuha," he said, "if the lack of phone calls, lack of response to letters, and overall avoidance tactics and lack of communication over the last year didn't make me hate you or even start to dislike you," he tallied the points off on his fingers as he said them, "then I don't see how whatever your reasoning could possibly accomplish it."

His words were true…but they were like a dagger through her heart, and she reacted accordingly. She jumped to her feet, eyes blazing with anger and tears; the mug fell from her hands, splashing the remnants of her tea across the floor, but she didn't care. Heiji stood up as well; as close as they'd been sitting, this put them almost nose-to-nose. Her expression was dancing the knife-edge between fury and heartbreak; his was completely even, giving nothing away.

He had grown up over time. She still felt like a child.

Were this a movie, this was probably the point where something would given way, and they would have fallen passionately into each other's embrace with kisses and declarations of love, and everything would be beautiful again. They would be together. They would have their happily ever after. But…this wasn't a movie. This was real life, with all its cruelties and harshness and pain. There weren't happy endings in real life, she had decided. No matter what you did or how hard you tried, there was just more of the same. More hurt.

Which was worse—to have one big painful moment, get it out of the way, and then live the rest of her life with the dull ache of that aftermath…or to take a risk and have a lot of little hurts that might spring up over a long period of time?

Kazuha swallowed hard, trying to take that risk…but her voice wouldn't obey her and her body went into an open rebellion, moving without her permission. "I'm sorry. God, this was so stupid…" She sidestepped him and moved past him into his bedroom. He had carried her bag in earlier from the car when he had accosted her at the airport to stop her from fleeing back to America, and she was sure he had just taken it in there with him. Sure enough, it was sitting on a chair. She grabbed it and slung it over her shoulder. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here in the first place. I'm going home." The word home felt so empty as she said it—that place wasn't really home. It was a place where she lived. Nothing more.

But when she tried to exit the room, Heiji was there to stop her. She was fenced in. On one side, the dresser. On the other side, the bed. Behind her, the wall. In front of her, Heiji. Behind Heiji, the door—the only way out of the room, and her ticket to escape.

"Heiji, move," she ordered with a great deal more bravado than she felt. She tried to move around him again, but he moved to block her path. "Goddammit, Heiji, get out of my way!"

"Why are you running away?" he asked.

"Why are you stopping me?" she snapped back, appalled when her voice cracked.

"Because you're too stubborn to admit that you're making a mistake," he replied. At last, a touch of anger had wormed its way into his tone; she was finally having an effect on him. "So I'm stopping you from making that mistake. Now sit down and talk to me."

"How dare you!" she said angrily. "You don't know anything—"

"I would if you would tell me!" he snapped back, his temper finally rising.

"It's none of your business! Now move!" she hated herself for saying such things, but kept on. To prove her point, she tried to walk at him with the crazy intention of pushing right past him (never mind that he was taller than her and quite strong) and making good her escape.

When he didn't move, she tried to push him, and he grabbed her wrists and pushed back, trying to force her backwards and away from the door. "Kazuha, would you stop already?" She stuck out a leg to try and trip him, but he caught himself and stayed on his feet, still struggling with her to keep her there.

She realized exactly how low she had really sunk at that moment. She was ready to physically fight him in order to escape from him. One of the only people left in the world who gave a damn about her, and she was lashing out at him, trying to hurt him…what was wrong with her?

But Heiji's infamous temper had hit its boiling point, and he was fighting back. He had caught both of her wrists with iron-grips and wasn't letting go. He was trying to push her backwards. His expression…he looked so angry. It gave her a chill as she wondered if maybe she had pushed him too far…

Suddenly, he changed tactics, from pushing backwards…to jerking her sideways. Her knees hit the bed, and she lost her balance, toppling over to land on her back on the green and white comforter; her knees were bent over the edge of the bed, her feet still brushing the floor. It didn't hurt, but it was enough to startle her into inaction.

And Heiji moved, climbing onto the bed and looming over her on his hands and knees; his hands were still wrapped around her wrists, pinning them against the bed above her head. And he looked so angry…was it possible that he had actually lost control of himself?

_A stab of pain lanced through her, both physically and emotionally, as she realized that she had just made the worst mistake of her life, and there was no way to take it back. _

Kazuha's fury vanished and was immediately replaced by terror as a flicker of something she wanted desperately to forget flashed in front of her. He had her pinned and in his power and his temper had gone beyond his control. And while on some level she knew that he would never hurt her like that, a more basic level of instinct was frightened beyond that sort of reason—if he really had lost control, there was no telling what he might do. She had to get away, get him to stop somehow…

At a loss for what else to do, she screamed. "Stop, Heiji! STOP!"

He froze. His expression changed in an eye blink, from blind fury and rage to comprehension as he seemed to realize exactly what position he was in, and her relative position: straddling her, pinning her down against the bed by her wrists. And she just looked up at him with wide, terrified eyes that were just starting to brim with frightened tears. She couldn't move. She could barely even breathe as she waited for him to do or say something.

Finally, he did. He leaned back very slowly, easing his grip from her wrists. When he had let go of her wrists entirely, she put one hand over her mouth to try and stifle her frightened sobs. He looked pained at the sound, possibly from knowing that he had caused it.

He sat back and stared at her for a moment before he shifted to move off of her entirely. He seemed to be in shock, like he couldn't believe that he had just done something like that.

Once she was no longer pinned beneath him, she rolled over and all but flung herself off the bed; she stumbled across the room, both hands clasped over her mouth, tears running down her face. And she made a beeline for the door. But when she got there, she paused and turned around.

Heiji was sprawled on his back on the bed. One arm was slung across his stomach; the other lay across his eyes. And she could hear him muttering, "Stupid…so stupid…the hell is wrong with me…"

Kazuha watched him for a moment. She should just turn around and leave. The door was right there, open and waiting for her. She could go back to America, and he wasn't about to stop her now. The path was hers to take.

And yet…

She took a slow step back towards the bed. And another, and another, until she was standing beside it, looking down at him. Heiji apparently hadn't noticed her presence; he had not moved. For the first time, she realized how tired and sad he really looked…was it because of her?

She put one knee on the bed and rocked forward to crawl across the comforter towards him. He moved his arm slightly to watch her; he seemed surprised that she hadn't grabbed her things, taken off running, and never looked back. Slowly, he moved his arm from where it was draped across his stomach to the bed beside him in a silent invitation.

Kazuha crawled right up to him and wrapped her arms around him as best she could, given his position—one arm around his shoulder, the other around his torso. She curled up against him, her head resting on his chest. Heiji awkwardly wrapped his free arm around her. "Kazuha?"

"Don't do that again," she sobbed. She was crying again, out of fear and anger and loneliness, and she couldn't stop herself anymore. "Heiji, please…please don't do that again…"

Now both his arms were around her, holding on for dear life. "I'm sorry…" he whispered. "I'm sorry. I completely lost it. I'm sorry…" He had grown up in so many ways. The old Heiji would have to be under threat of unspecified torture to manage something that might have vaguely resembled an apology. Now he gave them freely in a situation that called for them.

"Me too…" she replied softly, her own voice hoarse from yelling and crying. "I'm sorry…"

They stayed like that for a very long time. Even after her sobs had finally receded, they lay there in silence as they shadows on the floor grew longer and the sky outside the window grew darker. Neither moved and neither spoke. Caught in a moment and each other's arms, both were far too lost in their own questions and own worries and fears to risk breaking the silence too soon.

But it had to end eventually, and it was Heiji who spoke first. "Are you okay?" When she nodded against his shoulder, he asked, "…will you tell me why you got involved with that guy?"

Kazuha hesitated a moment before deciding that it was really now or never. If everything that had just happened was to be believed, he wouldn't throw her out for it. "…he had your eyes. They were exactly the same. And I…I wanted him to be you." She closed her eyes and waited to see if the axe would fall.

It didn't.

Instead, the hand on her back slid up her neck to the back of her head. She felt a tug as he pulled the ribbon loose, releasing her hair from the confines of her ponytail. His fingers slid through her hair, against the back of her scalp; it felt so nice.

She decided to ask her own question. "Why were you so determined to stop me from leaving?"

"I watched you walk away once," he replied, remembering that day at the airport when he had put her on a plane to America and regretted it before the plane had even pulled away from the gate. "I didn't want to do that again unless I knew there was no other alternative." His arms tightened around her. "I just didn't want you to leave until we'd at least worked something out."

Kazuha snuggled closer and closed her eyes. She was suddenly so tired, physically and mentally and emotionally; when she tried to answer him, she found herself yawning instead of speaking. She didn't even try to stay awake, realizing for the foregone conclusion that she knew it was.

She tightened her arms around him and let herself drift off.

**_-o- _**

When she woke up, it was dark outside.

More importantly, she was alone in bed again—tucked in underneath the green and white comforter. She sat up and looked around sleepily. Heiji was nowhere in sight. Technically, that was the way things should be, but…

She swung her feet off the edge of the bed and stood up (feeling the strangest sense of déjà vu as she did so) and headed towards the door. It was open a few inches, and she peered out into the apartment. From her vantage point, she could see that the television was on. But she couldn't see Heiji.

Kazuha pushed the door open and stepped out into the living room. Her guess proved correct—Heiji was sound asleep on the couch, his head resting against a throw pillow for comfort. He looked so calm and sweet and peaceful, lost in the world of slumber. One would never know he could be such a pain in the ass when he was awake and arguing.

…except he really wasn't, was he? He was Heiji, her friend, ahou, and arguing partner. But he had also proven himself way more than he should have had to over the last couple of days. She had spent all this time trying to burn her bridges, but it taken all of this for her to realize that he would always be right behind her with a fire hose to stop her from running. She dropped silently to her knees beside the couch and studied him closely as he slept.

Girls might mature faster than boys, but he had certainly been the first of them to reach adulthood in the most real sense of the word. Where had his patience come from? He genuinely seemed to be waiting for her—waiting for her to figure things out and come home. Heiji had never been that patient before…

…unless he knew it was something absolutely worth waiting for, like the final clue or the slip of a suspect's tongue that would solve an unsolvable mystery. Did that mean he thought she was worth waiting for? That would speak volumes about his feelings…and the idea made her feel fluttery inside.

She was so lost in her thoughts and revelations that she didn't notice that Heiji had opened his eyes and was watching her with a slight smile. But she didn't jump when he spoke. "What?"

"Nothing. Just thinking," she said. She lifted both arms to rest on the couch cushion beside him and propped her chin on her forearms. "I woke up and you weren't there."

"Figured I'd let you sleep," he replied, closing his eyes.

"Aren't you sweet?"

"I think so."

Kazuha sighed and closed her eyes as well. "So what do we do now?"

"I don't know. Tell me…what do you want?" he asked.

"…I want to feel safe," she replied honestly. "And so far…this is the safest place I know."

"You want to stay?"

"…yes. I think I do."

"Well, there ya go."

It was a far cry from the drama and emotion-driven outbursts that had filled the past couple of days. The exchange seemed so simple and straightforward, even though the decision made within it was potentially a very life-changing one. But…it was the right one.

The first thing she had done right in ages, Kazuha privately thought.

"I'll have to go back to America for at least a little while," she said softly, trying to be a bit more pragmatic while her heart was doing cartwheels. "All my stuff's there…including that teddy bear you gave me." She grinned at his faint blush. "And then I'll have to find an apartment here somewhere."

"Why not here?" Heiji asked.

As usual, he managed to throw everything so far off track for her. "There's only one bedroom."

"Okay…so we'll find a two-bedroom," he said airily. "Why not? We could be roommates."

Kazuha raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure that would work?"

"Why wouldn't it?"

"Because if certain…things develop," she pointed out, "then it might get a bit tense."

"…what kind of things?"

She smiled. "Like the feelings I have for you?"

"Hmm…could make things interesting."

"Heiji…do you…" her smile faded slightly, and she opened her eyes to wait for his answer.

"You couldn't tell?"

It wasn't really much of a confession, but it still made something warm run through her.

Now his eyes were open and looking up at her, warm and green and happy. "C'mere…" She smiled and lowered her head, and his hand moved to the back of her head as her lips met his.

George Bernard Shaw wrote that "A life spent in making mistakes is not only more honorable, but more useful than a life spent doing nothing." Humans are creatures who may live their entire lives by the blunders they make. It can be far easier to live with a mistake than to correct it…

But sometimes, just sometimes…it's worth taking the chance.

* * *

**PS.** _(eyes fic suspiciously) …is it done? O.o Holy cats, what happened here? This was supposed to be a nice, sweet, LITTLE story, and somewhere along the line…the plunnie mutated. This is officially the longest challenge fic I have ever written, beating out my nine thousand word story for 40 Nights. It's also the second longest one-shot I've ever penned, after "Sorrowful Soul." YIKES. _

_And with this…the challenge is COMPLETE. Thirty fics and thirty hugs for Heiji and Kazuha. THANK YOU LORD. Honestly, part of the reason I did this was because I feel this is the pairing I am the weakest at writing. And I still think that, but now at least I have some practice._

_Thank you all for reading, whether you're just tuning in for the first time or you've been with me since day one. I have enjoyed my time on this, and I hope you have enjoyed reading it. Thanks, all! Much love!_


End file.
